


Behind the Scenes

by fionnabhair



Category: Veep
Genre: F/M, Mentions of Eating Disorder, Miscarriage, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2018-08-13 19:19:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 79,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7983187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fionnabhair/pseuds/fionnabhair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snippets of Amy and Dan, behind and around the show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Baby-Daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missing moment for episode 1x07. Who was Amy's baby-daddy?

Amy left Selina’s office through the side door, walking firmly, steadily, towards the ladies room.  In a minute she’s going to find Mike, and in a minute, she’s going to dive into google and work out which journalist might possibly be sympathetic, and in a minute she’s going to look at her calendar and try to figure out when she could (hypothetically) have gotten pregnant.

In a minute.

Amy hides in one of the cubicles.  She hugs her knees and counts to ten and does not cry and does not cry and does not cry.

She wishes she could be surprised that Selina would do this to her – but she isn’t – not even the slightest.  Now that it’s happened, she realises it’s what Selina had been gunning for the whole day,

Amy had spent years building up a reputation for competence, for reliability, for not-being a complete fuck-up.  She can kiss all that goodbye now.  And yes, it’s better than being fired, but… the thought of having something so private clawed over and speculated about by the press makes her feel nauseous.

(Which, presumably, is exactly how Selina had felt.  Amy’s so honoured she chose to share).

She’s dabbing at her eyes with toilet paper when she hears the door bang – and then a pair of very obviously _male_ shoes come to a stop outside her cubicle.

“I know you’re in there.”

It’s Dan, because of course it’s Dan.  She doesn’t want Dan to have anything to do with this, so, naturally, he’s the first to chase her down.  (She _wants_ Mike, or, better yet, for a low-level natural disaster to distract the attention of the press).

“Go the fuck away,” Amy says, and her voice sounds normal (so, borderline furious with him).  That’s good.

“She didn’t _actually_ fire you, did she?” he says, and the glee she’d been expecting to hear isn’t _quite_ there.  It’s that, really, that propels her off the toilet and out of the cubicle.  If she can get through this conversation with Dan unscathed, she may just about be able to survive everything else.

She tries to shoulder Dan out of her way when she opens the door but – much to her irritation – he doesn’t even pay her the courtesy of moving a single inch (to save her dignity), but stays solidly in place, grinning down at her. 

She really does hate him.  It’s the closest she’s been to him, really, since… well, never mind since when, and his smirk is not helping with anything.

“Get out of my way,” Amy says, and Dan holds up his hands, all innocent, and steps back.  “You shouldn’t be in here.”

He just shrugs.  “This isn’t even the worst thing you _know_ I’ve done today.”

Amy bends to throw some water on her face – she feels like she’s had a headache for days, her feet are killing her, and the way Dan’s looking at her is making her twitchy. 

“Seriously, you’re not fired, are you?  We both know it should be Mike.”

“No,” Amy says, straightening up and tugging her jacket into position.  (If she had lipgloss with her, she’d put some on for this conversation).  “I’m not fired.”  Dan looks… Dan almost looks glad (though with him, how could you ever _know_?)  “I’m just recovering from a… a very distressing miscarriage.”

To his credit, he puts it together in only a few seconds.  Amy can’t look at the grin on his face, so she continues, “I need you and Mike to identify the right journalist, but I’ll set it up.  Since it’s only semi-official.”

“Right,” Dan says, “Want me to find some miscarriage factoids, so you don’t get it obviously wrong?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Amy says, looking at his tie and hoping he won’t ask.  He doesn’t, but he does just stare at her, and eventually she cracks.  “I already know.  I had a… it wasn’t like Selina, it was a surprise, I thought it was just normal cramps and then…”   She brings herself firmly back under her own control.  “Anyway, it was… it was almost a relief, since the father wasn’t exactly –”

“Did you tell him?”

She is so glad he’s interrupted her – another thirty seconds and she’d have shared the whole horrible story.   (It had been in the middle of finals, so she hadn’t had the time or energy to feel _anything_ about it, though she’d wondered about it from time to time in the months after.  She thought about it a lot whenever she was with her sister.  There but for the grace of god… but at least she’d aced the exams).

“No.  What would be the point?  Just an FYI, we’re not anything anymore, but my uterus rejected your baby, thought you’d want to know.”  Her voice still sounds more raw than she’d like, and Amy bites down on the final words to stop it.  (On the plus side, Dan’s the last person in the world to act sympathetic, which is good.  Sympathy just upsets her).

“It wasn’t _me_ , was it?” he says, eyes narrowed.  (She hates when he looks at her like that, all…examining).

“Do you think I’d be telling you if it was?  You can rest easy – to my knowledge your twisted Egan sperm has never taken root – though I’m sure someone somewhere has this kind of story about you, the way you behave.”

(She’s never told anyone about the miscarriage.  She’s never really known how to feel about it.  And at first, she’d been too busy, and then it had been too upsetting to think about… and then… she hadn’t known anyone who wouldn’t find her relief borderline obscene).

Dan still looks suspicious, and she adds, “It was years before we even _met_ , so relax please.  Your attempt to look sympathetic or whatever that face is is just… you’re going to sprain something.”

“I can do sympathy,” he says, and Amy scoffs.  She might have to appear to believe Selina’s lies, but she sees no reason to offer Dan that courtesy.  “I can,” he says, and hugs her.

It is the single most awkward expression of affection Amy has ever experienced.  She’d had her arms crossed, meaning one of her elbows is poking Dan in the ribs, her nose is smushed against his tie, and for one horrible moment it feels like her hair is going to get tangled in his cufflink.

(And none of that matters, because whenever Dan touches her – _still_ – there’s a moment where her mind goes completely quiet, she’s not even thinking, just feeling him.  She hates him.  He smells of… of Amy doesn’t know what, something warm and masculine, and he feels _strong_ , like he could hold her up for days on end.  She hates him so much).

“Are you always this stiff?” he says.  “You realise, you’re going to have to convince the journalist you’re a woman not a mannequin?”

Amy tilts her head back to look at him.  “Somehow,” she says, “being in proximity to you, doesn’t make me feel I can relax.”

“Do I make you nervous?” he says, and he’s grinning.

“No.” She says it flatly, because it’s the truth.  (She could only be nervous if she wasn’t sure what he was going to do – but she knows that, whatever scheme is bringing this behaviour on, it’s entirely self-serving).  “What do you want?”

Dan pulls back a little then, though his hands still rest on her upper arms.  Amy wants to shrug them off – but she doesn’t, because she can’t let him know she finds it distracting when he touches her.

“Who will you say the father is?”

And Amy’s mind goes suddenly, horribly blank.  She hadn’t thought that far ahead, but clearly Dan has, because he keeps rattling on.  “You’re not dating anyone, and if you say you are, they’ll catch the lie in about ten seconds.  Which means it’ll have to be Jonah.”  Amy doesn’t know what face she makes, but it must be spectacular, because he laughs.

“Absolutely not,” she says. “Selina might be… I will not be blackmailed into saying I let that oversized human crane touch me, there are limits.”

“Well then,” Dan says, and he squeezes her arms slightly for emphasis.  “There’s only one other option.”

Amy takes a step back from him.  “No.”

“It’s what everyone’s going to think anyway.”

“No they’re not, that’s… why would they think that?”

“Please Amy, do I have to explain it to you in one syllable words?”

“Well maybe, because I’m drawing a complete blank.  Seething contempt is not the same as –”

“You just get so _energised_ ,” Dan says, and Amy flushes.  He so smug, so certain that he has some kind of power over her.  “Every time, and people notice it, notice the tension – ”

“There is no tension!  You are the worst person in the world who isn’t actively feeding crystal meth to infants.”  Dan smiles at her, like she’s being cute.  “Despite what you might love to tell yourself, you have less appeal for me than a sweaty jock strap.”  (Which was true, partly because once it hadn’t been, and the gap between who he really was, and who she’d _thought_ he was, was so enormous…)  “And, also, you were dating…Alice from the Speaker’s Office until, oh, a minute ago, so –”

“Jealous?”

“Not _at all_ ,” Amy said.  (She remembered how it had felt).

“She had no illusions about me – and neither does anyone else, so… they’re still going to think it’s me.”

“I don’t care,” Amy says.  “It’s a private, and the father isn’t involved in politics, so I’d rather not discuss it.”

“Yeah, that won’t at all sound made up.”

“That’s the line, and I will shove it down your throat myself until you say it.”

“You see, Amy, this is the kind of thing I’m talking about.”

“Are you _that_ desperate for people to pity you, really?”

“I’m trying to avoid another scandal when they start digging for this non-existent father.  Who else is going to lie about something like this for you?  Really, I’m doing you a favour.”

“I’m three years younger than you not twenty-five, so… there’s no way I’m believing that.”

“Fine. I’m doing you a favour _and_ generating some goodwill – which this office doesn’t have a whole lot of, so… it’s a win-win.”

Jesus, he must think the conversation with Selina had _completely_ addled her brain.  “Dan,” Amy says, speaking as distinctly and clearly as she can.  “I would have to be out of my mind to trust you with… anything really, let alone… And this whole thing, it’s enough without you making it worse.”  She closes her eyes for a moment, feeling all the dread again.  “My Mom is going to be _heartbroken_.”

“Oh yeah, she will.”

She’d forgotten – or tried to – that Dan had met her.  “I’m seriously going to kick you in the shin.”

“Again, Ame, when you say things like –”

“Please,” she says, getting tired of him.  “If one of us is touchy or grabby or whatever, we both know it’s you.”

“Can’t help it if I like the way you feel.”

“Ugh,” she says.  “You might want to rehearse that line in the mirror a few more times, so it sounds in the same zip code as sincere.”

“Do you _want_ me to sound sincere?”

“No.  I _want_ you to get the fuck out of my life, but… _we_ have work to do.”

She pushes past him then, enjoying the declarative sound of her heels on the floor (it gives her a feeling of strength).  When she opens the door, Dan stretches his arm over her and closes it, startling her.  Amy looks back over her shoulder at him as he says, “If it had been me, would you ever have told me?”

“No,” she says, like it’s a stupid question (because it is).  “Tom – the guy – he would have been devastated, which is why I never said anything, but you… you would have been glad.  You’d have been delighted.  And that’s the only thing I can imagine that’s worse.  So, no, I would never have told you.”

“I don’t know,” he says, looking down at her with smiling eyes, and with that… _caressing_ tone in his voice that always makes her want to slap him.  “When I think about it… it could be kind of hot.”

She knows exactly what he means – and it’s not exactly a surprise that he’d get a macho kick out of it – which is why she tosses her head and says, “I don’t want to know.”  She yanks the door open.  “Wait thirty seconds before leaving.”

“Why?  Afraid it’ll look we were having a quickie?”

“For you this would be a longie,” Amy says, and leaves.  (Which is not _entirely_ true, but he’s worn her down to her last nerve, so she doesn’t really care).

She leaves – calls Mike to her office – and between the three of them, they come up with a plan (and Gary gets her some Advil, which… Amy forgives all of his transgressions, past and future, for that).

Mike and Dan throw practice questions at her, but Dan drops the Baby-Daddy stuff for a while (and Mike seemingly never thinks of it).  But, to Amy’s complete lack of surprise, he does his level best to convince the journalist that he is the doting boyfriend when she does arrive.

Amy doesn’t really know why he’s so keen to be the (fictional) father of her (fictional) baby, but she squashes the speculation anyway.

(Everyone still thinks it was his).

(When she realises this, it makes her hate him _more_ ).


	2. Thinking of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-series, post-break-up - Amy's not in any kind of mourning.

Amy really doesn’t want to meet Sophie for drinks.  She’s tired, she’s busy, she has New Hampshire demographic data coming out of her ears – and she can’t imagine a scenario in which Sophie makes her feel better about any of those things.

But her Mom calls, and makes it clear, in her passive-aggressive way, that… that she’d really like it if Amy would just go for a drink – it’ll do her good to get out of the house for a while – it always comforts her to know her two girls are together – and Amy needs to get some colour in her face.

Amy agrees, and hangs up – partly because Sophie has been trying to get her out for three weeks now (and has called her a nerd and a loser and pathetic every time she’s refused).

Amy does _not_ work too much.  She likes it.  Working, frankly, is better than talking to most of the people in DC.  (And it’s a pity, really, that working _requires_ talking to people in DC, because right now, she can barely stomach talking to anyone).

And she is not in mourning, or whatever the fuck her Mom thinks.  She’s being focused, she’s being responsible, she’s preparing for the decision she already knows Selina’s going to make.  People get dumped all the time, it doesn’t mean anything.  (And if the silence in her apartment late at night kind of makes her want to cry, because not that long it _wasn’t_ – he’d come over for dinner and wake her for breakfast and fill the whole place with his voice and his laughter (and _her_ laughter) – well so what?  She needs quiet if she’s going to come up with a strategy for Iowa).

But she goes.  If nothing else, after a week with no Mike (thanks to flu), far too much Gary, and being hit on by Jonah the Big Freaky Giant, she needs a goddamn drink.  (Admittedly, she would much prefer to have the drink in peaceful seclusion somewhere… but she can’t have everything).

Since she’s meeting Sophie, she doesn’t bother to straighten her hair, and she pulls on a pair of low-heeled boots instead of her usual heels.  Sophie will say she looks like a sexless loser anyway, so she might as well be comfortable.  (A decision she will come to regret.)

When she gets to the bar, she realises it’s a higher end, more aggressively fashionable place than she’d expected.  It’s not really Sophie’s style, at all, and as Amy scans the bar looking for her, she wonders why she chose it.

She finally sees Sophie – who’s drinking something unpleasantly brown out of a tall glass – and that’s when she realises why.  _He’s_ here.

Dan Fucking Egan is here.

For a moment, Amy really does consider just turning around and leaving (because fuck him) (and fuck Sophie for doing this to her), but he’s already seen her, and he’s _grinning_ , and she can’t.

So she lifts her chin and walks over, kissing Sophie dutifully on the cheek.  “Don’t you like this place?” Sophie asks.

“Sure I do.  Though it doesn’t really seem like your style.”

Sophie pushes a shot of tequila towards her.  “Oh, it isn’t,” she says, “But he said he’d be here on twitter, and I wanted to see him.  He’s cute.”

Amy can’t tell if Dan is listening – it doesn’t _look_ as though he is, but she’s sure he mastered the art of surreptitious eavesdropping long ago – so she closes her eyes for a second (maybe, if she’s very lucky, when she opens them he’ll be gone).  “And it didn’t cross your mind that I might _not_ want to see him?”

“No,” Sophie says, “I knew you’d be pining.”

“I’m not –” Amy begins, and then she wonders if it’s even worth it.  “I’ve been working.” 

“That’s all you ever do.”

“Because that’s what I _care_ about, Sophie.  We’re… we could be going good things.”  (If the political system wasn’t completely deadlocked).  (Just thinking about it makes Amy knock back her shot).

“Whatever,” Sophie says, “I think I liked you better when you were dating him – at least you weren’t so damn tense.”

“I need another drink,” Amy says, and slides off her stool.  It’s either get another drink or scream in the middle of all these people, so… She feels like there’s no air in her lungs, and Dan catching her eye while she waits to be served doesn’t help at all.

He’s with a dark-haired woman – tall and lean and cheekbone-y – and when Amy manages to get a clear view of her face, she recognises her.  Nicola Mortlock, from Justice.  (Amy had had a run-in with her a few years ago, and they had cordially disliked each other ever since.  So, naturally, she’s the next woman Dan chooses to date).

She leans against the bar, and tears up a beer mat while she waits.  She has an odd sense of being inside a bubble – as though the hubbub of the bar and people talking and people drinking can’t quite touch her, she’s outside of it.

(The last time she’d been in a bar, had been with Dan, and he’d smiled at her and touched her face and not quite surprised her with a kiss when they left, and she hadn’t even wanted to look at anyone else the whole evening).

She hates every single person there.  Especially the group of men who smile at her from their (rowdy) table, and especially the bar man who presents her drinks with an ostentatious flourish, and especially the man who offers to pay for her round.  She doesn’t _want_ to be flirted with, she doesn’t want to be hit on, she wants to be left _alone_.

But clearly no one tonight is interested in what Amy wants, because when she finally gets back to their table, Sophie is talking to Dan (and Nicola).  (Though, from the look on Nicola’s face, Amy thinks she would have foregone the pleasure).

Dan smirks at her as she sets the drinks down.  “We were just talking about you.”

“How wonderful,” Amy says, wondering if she could pull off throwing her drink in his face.  (Probably not) (but it would be _so_ satisfying).

“Yeah, Sophie was saying you’ve been oh so quiet lately.”

“Oh yeah,” Sophie says, “You have no idea – it’s been nothing but ‘they save the environment in Iowa’ for weeks – when I can actually get her to talk.”

“Iowa?” Dan says, and Amy can almost see the cogs moving (because unlike Sophie, Dan knows what Iowa means).

“Ethanol, that’s all,” she says, hoping to get him off the subject.  “Selina’s been gabbling about it for weeks – I guess some of it stuck.”

“Please,” Sophie says, “Can we just get drunk and not hear your ‘I want to save the planet’ shit again?”

“Well, I think _we_ ,” Amy says, smiling at Nicola, “Should leave these two alone.”

“Why?  He’s more fun than you are.”

“Yeah, but in ten minutes when you start weeping about Chad, I think you’ll find he’s a lot _less_ fun.”

Sophie blanches, and Amy uses the opportunity to steer her away from Dan’s table, (mouthing 'sorry' to Nicola as she does so).  She tries to force some sympathy into her character, as Sophie says, “Chad and I are over.”

And then she bursts into tears, and Amy pats her back mechanically (and she doesn’t wonder how _her_ post-breakup drinks have become all about Sophie, because it’s no less than she expected).  (Dealing with Sophie’s moods as a teenager was excellent preparation for Selina).

She’s trying to say comforting things, but it’s hard – she’s never understood the appeal of Chad, and Dan has turned in his seat so he can see her face.  (Amy suspects the idea of her being heartbroken gets him off, which…she’s not about to _cooperate_ in that).

“I just, I miss him every morning,” Sophie says, “I keep wanting him to be there, and he’s _gone_.”

“I know,” Amy says.  “It can be really awful.”

“And I just… I don’t understand _why_.  He did it completely out of the blue – maybe he never liked me at all.”

“I’m sorry,” Amy says (because she is).

“And just because I’m pregnant –”

“You’re _what_?” (And now Amy knows Dan’s listening, because he starts laughing at her reaction).

“Yeah, Amy, I’m pregnant.  You’d already know that if I could have got you out of the house at any point in the last six weeks.”

“You’re telling me you’re pregnant in a bar.  With a long island iced tea in your hand.  And why would Chad break up with you because of – ”

“Well it’s not his,” Sophie says, and Amy puts her head in her hands because of course… of course.

“And you think he dumped you out of the blue?  That’s not what that _feels_ like Sophie.  Please tell me it’s not that creep from –”

“That creep is managing a store in Baltimore now, Amy – that’s over.”

“Okay,” Amy says, and she takes Sophie’s drink out of her hand.  “You’re going home – I’m cutting you off.”  (Normally she wouldn’t do that – she’d respect a pregnant woman’s autonomy – but there were four empty glasses on the table when she arrived, so…)

“But this is cheering me up!”

Amy’s phone dings – it’s Gary, wanting to know where she is, if she can meet them, and she texts him her location while saying, “It won’t cheer you up when you have a hangover on top of morning sickness tomorrow morning.”

She shoots her tequila, and then tries to help Sophie off her stool, but it’s difficult – Sophie’s bitching about Chad, and pregnancy, and Amy, and everything, and she’s both taller and heavier than Amy, and so Amy stumbles, a little, and she can tell everyone’s looking.  (This is what happens when you rely on people – you just become a prop in their psychodrama).

She (eventually) gets Sophie out of the bar and into a cab, and then, since she has to wait for Gary and Selina anyway, she calls her Mom, pacing up and down the sidewalk as she does so.  She shouldn’t, because her mother’s endless sympathy and optimism always get under her skin, but she also really, really needs to yell at someone.  She lets her Mom burble about how glad she is that they went for drinks, and then she strikes, “Did you _know_ he was going to be there?”

“Oh, Amy, Sophie might have said something, but…I was just so glad you girls were –”

“And you didn’t think to _warn_ me?”

“Sweetheart, I’m sure the second he saw you he realised what a fool he –”

“What!” Amy takes a deep breath, and tries to bring her voice down to a more reasonable pitch.  “Mom, I don’t know _where_ you got the impression that he’s desperately in love with me and trying to hide it, but… that’s not who he is.  That’s not even close to who he is.  He doesn’t give a fuck about me – at all – so you need to stop with these convoluted schemes.”

“Amy, there was no scheme, we just thought…you’ve been _so_ upset.”

“I _am_ upset,” Amy says, (and it is such a relief to feel purely, cleanly furious after the last six weeks of misery).  “You set me up.  I looked like some stalking weirdo, Mom.  He was there with his new girlfriend, _smiling_ at me, and you didn’t even warn me, because you don’t listen.  You _never_ listen to me.  Have you any idea how embarrassing that was?  And not to mention,” she says, turning on her heel, “Sophie told me she was pregnant with a drink in her hand.”

And then she sees Dan.

He’s standing a few behind her, and there’s a look on his face that… Amy has to take a step back, all her instincts screaming at her.

Dan cocks his head at that, and matches her step, exactly, and he’s smiling at her, but…not.  There’s something fiery in it, but no warmth – she thinks it’s how a cat looks to a mouse.  (She hangs up, because she does not need her mother to hear this conversation).

Dan keeps coming, keeps invading her space like he still has the right, and Amy steps back again, and up on to the step behind her, and he… he actually laughs.  “Thanks,” he says, looking her up and down, “That’ll make this easier.”

He’s so close, Amy has to lean her head back to see him (she can feel his breath on her forehead) (and it leaves her with a sick kind of longing, low in her heart).  “You’re here with Nicola – she’s not even thirty feet away – have you _no_ decency?”

He shrugs, running his fingers up her sleeve.  “She doesn’t taste as good as you.”

Amy doesn’t even know how to respond to that – which is probably why he said it – and she stares up at him, feeling wide-eyed and hypnotised. 

Dan tilts her chin up with one hand – and he does it so _slowly_ too, giving her all the time in the world to push him away, because he is the complete bastard.  His mouth hovers over hers, just long enough for her to say, “God, you really are a snake.”

One corner of his mouth turns upward at that, and then… he kisses her.  And it’s… if Amy were a more melodramatic person, she’d say it feels like she’s dying.  Which, obviously she isn’t, but… it’s both the best and the worst kiss she’s ever had.

Dan doesn’t kiss _nice_ , not in her experience, but there’s a…gentleness to this, a slowness, that’s brand new.  He catches her lower lip between his teeth, but then he smooths it over with his tongue – he’s pressing her almost too firmly against him, but one hand strokes her cheek.  It’s a trap, Amy knows, and she can’t just walk back into it.  He’s teasing her out, coaxing her into participating, and she _hates_ that she’s letting him.

She’s hyper-conscious of… of everything – the weight of Dan against her, his hand on the small of her back, pulling her up and into him, the smooth feeling of his skin under her hand, the tenderness of his tongue against hers...

She could bite him.

She _should_ bite him – or knee him in the balls – or just…find someone better-looking (and kind) to kiss.  (In front of him, preferably).

But she doesn’t do any of those things.  And when they finally separate (and Dan kisses her cheeks and her eyelids and her forehead), Amy’s breathing is ragged.  She can’t look at him – she hates him so much, he’s turned her inside-out, again – and she’s grateful his arms are still around her, holding her tight against him, because her knees actually do feel weak (she’d always thought that was a lie).

Even though she’s not looking at him, she can tell he’s smirking down at her.  He cups her face with one hand, presses his thumb against her lips, and says, “I’m moving in with Nicola.”

Her eyes fly up to meet his then and… for a moment (and just a moment), Amy’s almost _scared_ of him.  He wants her to react, he wants to see her look hurt or look sad, he wants to see her cry… she can feel the desire for it in his body, the tension in his hands, the anticipation in his voice.

She’d thought – she’d consoled herself with the thought – that Dan didn’t care about anyone or anything (and that’s awful) (though far from unique in her experience) (especially in DC).  But the way he’s looking at her now… it unsettles her. 

The only thing more unnerving than a Dan who doesn’t care about anything, is a Dan who does. 

(Which… this doesn’t mean he loves her – or even likes her necessarily – or is doing this out of anything but opportunism.  But from his expression Amy realises… he wants something from her, and it wouldn’t bother him at all if he had to cut her into ribbons to get it).

“That poor girl,” she says, speaking crisply, “I should really warn her.”

“Don’t waste your time,” Dan says, “ _She_ doesn’t have any illusions about me.”

He doesn’t say, “the way you did,” but they both know that’s what he means.  His face doesn’t lend itself well to expressing…softness, or affection, but… it’s a little like there’s a shadow of those feelings on it, for just a second.

“Well,” Amy says, “Once you’ve ruined her life, I can turn her into an ally.  You do realise uniting the women of DC in contempt of you is going to end badly, right?”

Dan grins, and kisses her again.  (And kisses from such a terrible person shouldn’t be allowed to make her feel so good) (but they _do_ ).  “You know, you really are very sweet,” he says, and Amy bites his lip. 

“Someday,” she says, and she keeps her voice low, “I am going to _ruin_ you, and I’m not going to feel even the least bit bad about it.”

“Oh, I think you will a little.”

“And you’re basing this assumption on…what exactly?”

“Well the thing is,” Dan says, the hand that had been on her waist sliding up to (just) graze the underside of her breast, “You didn’t _have_ to kiss me back.”

“And you didn’t _have_ to follow me out here,” she says, “And yet…”

He laughs, and Amy’s still so close to him that she can feel the vibrations in his chest.  “Everyone knows what I’m like… except you.  And you, you’re still just a little sweet on me, aren’t you, Amy?”

And it’s like something clicks in her brain, and suddenly she’s seeing him clearly, maybe for the first time.  “No,” she says, and she really does mean it.  “I’m not.”

(So his kisses make her breathless, and his touch ignites something hot and greedy in her skin, and every time she makes him laugh she feels a kind of triumph).  (That doesn’t make him _worth_ something, worth being around).  (He’s _hollow_ ).  (There’s nothing more to him than what he’d just shown her). 

Over his shoulder, Amy sees Selina’s car pulling up – sees Gary sticking his head out to look for her – and she tugs at Dan’s tie, sliding her fingers up and down it.  “You know,” she says, and she leans up, so her lips are almost – but not quite – grazing his.  “It’s almost a shame you’re such a shit.  I do hate to see waste.”

And then she steps out from behind him, and walks over to the car, and when she has her hand on the handle, she turns and says, “Don’t worry about lipstick – I’m not wearing any.  Any more.”

She doesn’t know if he smiles at that, or rolls his eyes, because she’s already getting in the car.  And when she’s in, and sat down properly, Selina leans over and says, “Amy, how would you like to go to Iowa?”

She doesn’t need to think about Dan Egan any more.  She's going to the White House.

 

* * *

 

By the time she gets home it’s late – she and Selina had spent hours strategizing and planning the announcement (and okay, Amy hates the campaign manager, but he’s letting her be the deputy, so it could be worse).

Her phone rings as she makes it through the door, and she answers it automatically.  “I don’t want to talk about outfits again.  It’s one a.m. and we have days to plan.”

She’s hunting through her bag as she speaks, and she jumps sharply when she hears a warm, male chuckle (that’s not how Gary sounds) on the other end, and in so doing, her hand jolts in the bag, and some business card or something slides under her index nail, bending  it back, and she moans from the pain of it.

She’s got her finger in her mouth (trying to suck away the pain), when Dan says, “You know, your phone sex… I’m not saying I don’t enjoy it, but it’s a little disjointed.”

“Dan?” she says, and she really is surprised (she’s been so excited, planning the Iowa caucus in her head already, she’d… she’d kind of forgotten their encounter earlier in the evening – well, not forgotten, but it had slipped from the forefront of her mind).  “I thought you were Gary.”

“That’s probably the worst thing anyone’s ever said me.”

“Give it time,” Amy says, “I’m sure someone will top it.”

“And do you always moan like that when Gary calls you?”

“I… you startled me, and my fingernail bent back, and… it _really_ hurts.”

“Want me to kiss it better?”

“I can’t believe I’m the one who keeps having to remind you of this, but you have a girlfriend, and she’s not me.”

“So?”

“So…” and she sighs, because what’s the point of even trying to explain to him that cheating is horrible behaviour?  “I don’t like sharing.  Which you know.  So…why are you even calling?”

“Well, I thought you might want a nightcap.”

“Dan, one of the consequences of you dumping me, is that you don’t get to have sex with me anymore.  I would have thought you could figure that out, but if not…”

“Oh honey, don’t be that way.”

“You’re the one who didn’t want –”

“That’s not exactly true.  You can’t take a little thing like that so seriously, Amy.”

“I am not your back-up lay when Nicola’s having shark week.  Get that into your head.”

He laughs again.  “I love it when you talk dirty.”

“I bet you do.” Amy says (and god, it’s hard to even keep hating him, he’s just so relentlessly horrible she’s almost swinging around to finding it entertaining).

“You sure you don’t want me to come over?” he says.  “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“No,” Amy says sweetly.  “You won’t.  I can do as well if not better myself with my right hand, and with less risk of catching some disease, so…your pitch really needs work.”

“Well, maybe you can just keep telling me about your right hand then.”

“I’m not talking to you anymore,” she says.  “This is too…gross.”  (She doesn’t _think_ he’s masturbating while on the phone to her – he’s not _that_ kind of creep – but still).

“All right Ame – but I’ll be thinking of you.”

“A place in Dan Egan’s spank bank – everything I never wanted.”

“Don’t knock it,” he says (and maybe he’s drunk, maybe that’s why he has so little finesse right now?) “How often do you think I even _want_ a repeat performance?”

“You’re disgusting,” she says, and hangs up.

And for the next year she lives, eats and breathes the primaries.  And if, during that time, she runs into Dan occasionally at events, and they exchange vaguely charged barbs over finger-food, well that’s annoying, and she still hates him, but it's _fine_.  She can almost be amused by what a terrible, terrible person he is.

(He doesn’t call her again). 

(One very late-night text about how he’d like to stain her purple dress doesn’t count).

(And she does not – does not – does not – give in to any urges she definitely did not have to call _him_ ). 

But when she needs a favour – needs a way to solve Selina’s plastics crisis – she decides to use him.  She figures he owes her one.

She should have known it would be a mistake.


	3. Three Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three times Dan and Amy hooked up... and one time they didn't.

“Allow me.”

The card slid in smoothly, the lock beeped, the light went green, and Amy looked back at him, fighting a smile.  She’s not very good at it (and neither is he, not when she’s right there).

Part of him wanted to push her up against the door right then and there (she was so close, and her hair smelt so good), but why spend all that time unlocking it if he wasn’t going to walk through?

So he follows Amy into her room – if she wants rid of him she can always throw a shoe or something.

And, if nothing else, it’s worth it to hear the almost moan she lets out when she sees the small suitcase sitting on the bed.  “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you,” she says, unzipping it to view the contents.

She’s about to start digging through it when Dan rests his hands on her hips, lowering his head to murmur in her ear, “Should I leave you two alone?”

Amy doesn’t jump – which he half-expected – but she does twist her head around to look at him.  “What do you think you’re doing?”

He taps the fingers of one hand against her hip.  “Guess.”

She’s half-laughing as she says, “Dan, you’re a shit, you can’t just –”

He cuts her off with a kiss – and for all her protests, her mouth is sweet and open under his, and after a moment, she turns in his arms, stretching up to be kissed _more_.  Her breasts are squashed against his chest (so soft), and Dan has to restrain himself from reaching his hands down and just grabbing (there’ll be time for that).

 When they finally part, Amy keeps her eyes closed, and it takes five-six-seven seconds (and him squeezing her hip) before she opens them up and looks at him.  Which is when Dan pushes her back onto the bed, landing on top of her with a bounce that's more enthusiastic than dignified.

She squirms a little – trying to look over his shoulder – and Dan grunts.  “If you keep doing that, this is going to escalate a lot faster than I’d planned.”

“Shut up,” she said.  “The case.  Those are my only clean clothes.”

“Oh, fuck ‘em,” he says, and kicks the case off the bed.

“DAN!”

“Guess you’ll just have to stay in your room,” he says, and bends to kiss her neck.  (There was a spot – he remembered – that pretty reliably turned Amy to jelly, if he can get his mouth on it).

“You think just because you got the key in the door… I’m going to sleep with you?”

Amy would have sounded more convincing if she hadn’t gasped in the middle of her sentence.  “That’s exactly what I think,” Dan says, insinuating his knee between her legs.  His cocky tone must do it for her, because even as she was rolling her eyes, Amy pulled him down for another kiss.

It was only when Dan slid his hand up her leg (to pull it into a more…pleasing position) that Amy showed any reluctance.  She pressed her hands flat against his chest, biting her lip, and her expression… he can’t like it.

“Nervous?”

“No,” Amy said – in the way she had that clearly meant yes.  (She’s so transparent sometimes – possibly a liability).  Her big blue eyes look almost anxious, and that… that’s not what he wants.  (He wants her playful, he wants her laughing, he wants her bossy even).

So he rolls them, putting her firmly on top of him.  They both win this way; she has more control, and it’s easier for him to touch her.  “It’s okay if I make you nervous Amy, really, I take it as a compliment.”

Amy leans down, planting her hands on each side of his head (and yes, it worked, this is more like her already).  “Fuck _you_ , Dan,” she says, grinding her hips against his, slow but unmistakeable.

“That’s the idea, sweetheart.”

Amy laughs, and Dan can feel it vibrate through her whole body.  (And right now, laughing down at him, Amy’s not just hot or gorgeous, the way she always is – she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen).

He’s not sure who moves first, but they’re kissing again, and he runs his hands over every part of her body he can reach, and Amy’s trying to lift her hair out of the way with one hand, and making an impatient noise every time some slips free, and he starts to unzip her dress, and…

His stomach rumbles.  Loudly.

For a second, he thinks they can ignore it, but then it happens again, and Amy buries her face in his neck, her shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

“Ignore it,” Dan says (knowing she won’t).

“You sound like a cement mixer.”  (He tries to think of a way that could be construed as sexy, but has to admit there isn’t one).  Amy sits back up, leaning back on her heels (on his cock), and he taps a rhythm out on her thighs, all nervous energy, as she says, “Maybe we should get you a slice of pizza or something.”

“Oh, you want to buy me dinner first?”

“Dan,” she says, and he continues, talking over her, “I had no idea you were so –”

“I’ll still be here in an hour,” Amy says, taking one of his hands in hers.

“Yeah,” he says, squeezing her fingers, “But you’ll be thinking with your brain by then.”

“You might be right – this is probably only a temporary lapse.”  Amy’s face is flushed, and she’s looking at him through her eyelashes.  “Which is why I want you at your best, not passing out from starvation.”

Dan slides his free hand further up her thigh, almost, but not quite, touching her underwear.  “But there are much better things I could be eating,” he says, and Amy’s mouth rounds in surprise.  She’s laughing again (covering the sound of his traitor stomach, which is a relief).

“Look,” she says, toying with his tie (the way women always do when they want to be toying with something _else_ ).  “If you play your cards right, and don’t ruin it by, you know, being you, I –”

“What’s that mean?”

Amy gives him A Look, and Dan tries his best to make an innocent expression (not a skill he’s ever had much need to develop).  “You mean you wouldn’t ditch me to nail the CBS producer you were –”

He pulls her down and kisses her, sucking her tongue into his mouth.  His hands find their way to her ass, and he grabs two generous handfuls and _squeezes_.  By the time he’s let her go, Amy’s mouth is pink and swollen, and she’s breathing heavily as he says, “You’re the one I want to nail tonight.”

“And they say romance is dead.”

“Oh, is that what you want from me?  Romance?”

Amy looks unsure again, and…it surprises Dan just how much he wants her to say yes.  (Not that he’d thought about the possibility or anything).  (Like, he would be a better partner for her than Ed, but it didn’t take more than a minute’s thought to work that out).  Finally, she sighs, and says, “I don’t know what that would even be like.”

“But you’ve thought about it?”  (He should really stop pushing this, but he’s never found it easy to do that with her).

“Well, maybe, a little,” Amy says, still sounding doubtful.  “I mean, if you actually meant it, if it wasn’t your usual performance, I figure you’d bring me a bucket of congressional scalps every morning – like a cat with dead mice.  Though, if it was true love, I’d expect at least the heads of the editors at Fox News.”

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”  He smacks her ass for emphasis (not hard enough to hurt), and Amy jolts forward, a kind of half-laugh, half-yelp forced out of her.

“You know,” she says, and then she takes his chin in her hand and kisses him, tugging his bottom lip between her teeth as she pulls away.  “Just because I said I’ll… doesn’t mean you have permission to get all depraved on me.”

“Depraved?” Dan likes that word.  “Honey, I haven’t even _started_.”

“A little tip from me to you – don’t raise expectations you can’t possibly fulfil.”

“Oh ye of little faith, just you _wait_ , I’ll have you –”

“You can lock me in your sex dungeon or whatever _after_ Selina’s President, okay?”

“Oh really?  Can I?”  He grinned, and let his grin grow wider and wider, just to annoy her.

“That wasn’t… I meant… Fuck _off_ Dan.”

“You’re the one who said it.  And it's an appealing idea.”

“Shut up.”  (But there’s a smile lurking at the corners of her mouth.)

“So, do you want me to tie you to the bed first, or do –”

And then _Amy’s_ stomach rumbles, though it’s less…obtrusive than his, and Dan laces his fingers through hers.  “You hungry too?”

“Starved.”

There’s a pause, and Dan realises he needs to get her into a restaurant, fed, and back onto the bed as soon as humanly possible… because if she looks at him like that again (and uses that _tone_ ), he may just spontaneously combust.

“Come on,” Amy says, climbing off him, and pulling him up with her.  “It won’t take long.”

He follows her out the door.  They make it back in less than an hour.

 

* * *

 

“So it’s just little ole you in that big ole room…”

“I’m gonna go back to that room,” Amy says, sliding off her stool.  “See you later.”

She presses her hands together, and Dan, he… he can’t stop himself.  He wraps one hand around her wrist – quickly, before she can get out of reach – and says, “Will I?”  (He might as well ask, and remove all doubt.  It’s not like Amy’s ever had trouble telling him to fuck off before).

She looks startled, and says, “Will you what?”

“See you later?”  He strokes her skin with his thumb.  (She’d been maddeningly close all evening – all day even – floating within reach but out of touch the whole time).

He’s not sure if it’s his touch, or the question that’s throwing her off, but Amy fumbles in a way she wouldn’t usually.  “I’m not – do you want…” she takes a deep breath, and meets his gaze properly.  “I guess that depends on you.”

She’s trying – really trying, he can tell – to sound cool and collected, but her cheeks are already flushing, and Dan can’t keep a smile off his face.  Her huff of irritation only makes him smile more, and finally Amy flounces (actually _flounces_ ) away, saying, “Good _night_ Dan.”

He raises his glass to her ironically, and watches as she leaves.  He’s not surprised when she looks back at the door, quick and tentative, to see if he’s followed her.  It takes him only a moment to knock back his drink, and gather his things, and get away from Sophie (who clearly wants to bitch about politicians).  When he makes it into the hotel foyer, he sees the elevator doors just closing on Amy’s (crestfallen?) face.

They’re only on the second floor, and Dan doesn’t have the patience to wait, so he practically _runs_ up the emergency exit stairs, and (miracle of miracles), makes it up just as the elevator dings open.

Amy starts when she sees him (and he’s breathing rather heavily, which isn’t helping), and it takes a moment for her to step through the doors.  She’s clearly expecting him to move back, out of her space, and when he doesn’t… she shifts, just a little, fiddling with the strap of her handbag and looking at the floor.

(There’s no world in which Dan wouldn’t get off on knowing that he – and only he – can make Amy this nervous.  It makes him feel like the most powerful man on earth).  (This is a woman who has survived shouting matches with Supreme Court Justices.  She doesn’t spook easily).

He smooths her hair behind her ears (can’t have it getting in the way), and lets his fingers run down to cup her jaw.  He sees her lips start to form his name, and he kisses her before she can get the word out, swallowing the sound.

It’s more than just kissing (Dan’s used to kissing – and fucking – and everything else you could think of).  His hands are only touching her face, though he’s pushed her back against the elevator doors, and Amy’s stretching up to meet him, and she must be standing on the very tips of her toes to bridge that gap, and even so, she’s still too far away.  Even with Amy’s arms twined around his neck, and her whole body pressing against his, she’s still too far away.

Dan tries to pick her up – and okay, there’s a reason actors rehearse moves like that, because it is basically a colossal failure.  He hadn’t wanted to stop kissing her, and he hadn’t warned her, and the end result is that he kind of _heaves_ Amy up by her waist, and then has to put her down again.  It’s the exact opposite of slick, and Amy starting to laugh doesn’t help him feel better at all.  (But when he looks down and sees the way her breasts shake in her tank top when she laughs at him, it might be worth it).

She rests her head against his chest for a moment, and Dan strokes her hair, and tries to breathe like a normal person.  It’s a futile attempt, because when Amy looks up at him, her eyes wide and dark, and says, “Take me to bed,” he actually _feels_ his heart-rate increase.

But still – this isn’t his first rodeo – so he takes her hand and pulls her down the corridor, saying, “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

“Eh, yeah, I just did,” Amy says (and is she really going to argue with him about this?)  (Of course she fucking is).

“Since when do you mean ‘See you later’ as an invitation for sex?  I should tell Jonah, he’ll be thrilled.”

“Okay,” Amy says, digging through her handbag for her keycard.  “For future reference, this will go a lot better if you don’t bring him up.”  She’s struggling with the card – again – and lets out a frustrated sigh when it fails to work.

Dan puts his hand on hers, and repeats his move from earlier in the day.  “You see Amy, it doesn’t work as well when you do it alone – you need me for it to go just right.”

She rolls her eyes.  “Yes, thank you, I’m glad you’ve mastered the art of the single entendre.”  But she turns her head to kiss him at the end of her sentence, and fists her hand in his shirt, pulling him into the room with her (she’s stronger than she looks).

What’s surprising is… how awkward it _isn’t._

Before they’ve even reached the bed, Amy’s down to just her underwear (if nothing else, he’s efficient), and she’s removed his tie and gotten to work on his shirt.  She keeps kissing him as she struggles with the lower buttons (her hands distracting, even in their fumbling).

When they’re finally skin to skin, Amy lets out the most contented little sigh – the sound going straight to his dick – and he pushes her onto the bed (or maybe she pulls him, he doesn’t know or care).

Amy’s hands start tracing patterns on his shoulders and his lower back, and Dan kisses her neck (trying not to push for too much too fast) (she’s not going to say he’s bad at foreplay _this_ time) (he wants her so wet he can _smell_ it).

He bites down, just a little, and he can feel the tremor that runs through Amy’s body, even as she pulls back and says, “Don’t you _dare_.”

“No marks anywhere anyone can see them, I promise.”

“I’m not agreeing to that.”

“But you’re thinking about it.”

“No,” she says, and Dan’s too busy sliding her bra straps off her shoulders to taunt her for sounding so unconvincing.  “Not unless I get to mark you – maybe scratch up that pretty face of yours.”

“You really think I’m pretty?” he says, mugging.

“You are such a complete and utter… ass.  You’re like the Platonic ideal of –”

“Jesus, stop fucking _talking_.”

He kisses her, taking his time to taste and explore her thoroughly.  And, as he does so, he tries to get a hand under her – that damn bra needs to come off _now_ – and, oddly cooperative, Amy lets him.

But the angle is all wrong, and he rolls them so they’re both on their sides, and he can finally, finally unclasp the damned thing.  Amy smiles against his mouth, and he breathes out, “I should have jumped you months ago.”

She shakes her head.  “That’s frowned upon.”

“Only if you didn’t want me to,” Dan says, shifting slightly, to get her into a better position.

“Did you really…want to?” she says, and how any woman can sound shy like that when his mouth is inches away from her nipple is beyond him.  And that tone, Amy’s shyness desperately trying to cover itself, brings out something wolfish in him.  He wants to devour her whole and come back for seconds.  He wants to taste her and smell her and chain her to his bed for a month until she can’t even breathe without thinking of him.  (So maybe it’s not her tone, maybe it’s just her).

“Amy,” he says, “You know me.  It can't be a surprise that I’ve thought about jumping you every day since we’ve known each other.”

(Which was true.  Sometimes just because she was hot and _right there_ , and sometimes because it was the pleasantest way he could think of to get her to shut the fuck up, and sometimes because he just wanted to).

“Okay,” she says, voice all shaky, and pushes his head back down to her chest. 

And thank fuck, they don’t talk any more.

 

* * *

 

Dan’s walking towards Sophie’s room, and…even though it’s sex, he can’t make himself walk faster, can’t summon up much in the way of enthusiasm.  (Amy will never forgive him for this) (which, it’ll be worth it for a job on CBS, that’s for certain) (but he’s not looking forward to seeing her face, when…) (or he is, but there’s something queasy underneath the anticipation).

Sophie is rambling about how boring Amy is, and Amy’s job, and Amy’s style (and what kind of sisterly minefield is he walking into exactly?)  For a journalist, she’s incredibly…uninterested in the world, but… at least she doesn’t look like Amy.  That’ll make it easier.

He gets a text message, and he holds up his hand to quiet Sophie – it could be important.

But all it says is, “Nightcap?”

It takes Dan more seconds than it should to realise the significance of what Amy’s sent him, but when he does (as he does even) he’s apologising to Sophie and saying he has to go, something too important has come up.

Once he’s round the corner – away from Sophie (and she is definitely _not_ happy with him, but he doesn’t give a fuck) – he has to stop and take a deep breath.  It’s not that he thinks he’s making the wrong decision – it’s that he didn’t even take the time to make one.  It had been made for him the second he got Amy’s message. 

But usually, usually he thinks these things through.  After all, it’s not that he doesn’t want a job on CBS – he does – he wants anything right now… but even as he makes the calculation he knows he’s going to ignore it.  There’ll be other chances to improve his career – he knows how to make opportunities happen – but _this_ chance, with Amy, it won’t ever come again (not if he fucks her sister).

He collects himself (and he never has to collect himself, it’s weird), and makes his way to Amy’s door.  (And if he swaggers a little, well he’s going to fuck Amy tonight – he has good reason).  When he knocks, his hand doesn’t shake, which is a relief.

When Amy opens the door, she’s wearing pyjamas (and the image of her in those tiny little shorts is going to stay with him).  “Hi,” she says, and her voice is unbearably soft.

She steps back to let him in, and when she closes the door an almost (but not quite) uncomfortable silence falls between them, lasting too many heartbeats.  Dan knows he’s looking at her weirdly, but he can’t help it… she’s surprised him.  (To his knowledge, Amy’s not the one night stand type.  She doesn’t enjoy…messiness).

A slow blush is raising on Amy’s face, and when he smiles at her it only gets worse.  Finally, she says, “What do you want to drink?”

Dan’s eyes widen – she can’t be serious – but after a moment he realises she’s saying it just to have something to say.  (She’s not sure how to start this either).  “Whatever you’re having,” he says, and watches her turn to the minibar.

While she busies herself with that, he sits down on one of the crappy hotel chairs, undoing his tie as he does so.  He thinks about removing his belt, but… he gets tangled in whether Amy will find it presumptuous or not, and he really doesn’t want her to kick him out… so by the time she’s finished pouring the drinks he still hasn’t decided.

She holds out a glass of whiskey to him, and Dan takes it and puts it on the table, keeping his eyes on her the whole time.  He takes her drink too – and she lets him – and then he takes hold of her wrist and pulls her into his lap.

Amy makes a surprised sound, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders, and he all but _growls_ at her.  “You didn’t think I came just for a drink, did you?”

Amy shivers (he can actually see it), and he lets his fingers play with the material of her shorts.  When she doesn’t say anything, he adds, “So what _did_ you think I came for?”

“Well, I thought,” Amy says, sounding breathless, “That if I gave you another drink or two, I could convince you to…” she trails off, and Dan has to squeeze her thigh to get her to finish.  “To kiss me.”

He raises his eyebrows at that, and Amy looks like she’s trying to laugh (and okay, she’s just fucking with him) (which… he should probably let her have it) (it’s not like he doesn’t owe her one).

And then she leans forward and kisses him, and it’s almost sweet, _almost_ innocent, and Amy brings her hands to his face as she deepens the kiss, her tongue just touching his, and then caressing it, and… the sound she makes, it’s almost like she’s _purring_.  (He could listen to it forever).

Amy breaks the kiss rather sharply when he slides his hand into her shorts (because he actually _can_ concentrate on two things at once).  “A little hasty, aren’t you?”

(She has a point, but Dan has learned… with a woman like Amy, half the trick is not getting in his own way.  If he leaves his finger in the right place and gives her imagination time to work, she’ll turn _herself_ on).

“I don’t know, Amy,” he says.  “You said you wanted me to kiss you.  Anywhere in particular?” And he flexes his fingers for emphasis.

He keeps moving, just a little, so she can’t forget him, and Amy kisses him again, more passionately than before.  And when she pulls away, she breathes out a word that almost knocks him out of his seat.

“Everywhere.”

He’s not sure who’s more surprised, and Amy scrunches her face up almost immediately, like she’s regretting having said it (and he doesn’t want her to regret it) (the prospect is far too enticing for her to take it back).

He strokes her cheek.  “Seems like you’ve put some thought into this – when you’re alone at night?”

“No.” Amy looks mulish, and he raises an eyebrow.  “Maybe…sometimes, when you’re not being awful, and… only since you had the beard.”

And Dan laughs.  He holds her to him and laughs.  He can’t help it.  It’s not that Amy being attracted to him is funny – and it’s not her little confession is shocking (not for someone as jaded as he is)  (he could talk pure filth about what he wants to do to her for ten, twenty minutes, without stopping, just off the top of his head).  He just feels… it reminds him (a little) of the first time he saw her after he’d been fired, when a bubble of pure…gladness, or something, had risen in his chest – only this is bigger.

He only comes back to himself when he realises Amy looks confused (if not completely freaked out).  “Want me to grow it back?”

“It’s you face, do what you want.”

“Come on,” he says, in his most wheedling tone.  “It wouldn’t even take long.”

“If you want to look like a Game of Thrones extra, fine by me.”

He’s pushed it too far, and now she’s embarrassed.  (And, sure, he could savour that embarrassment, but it would rather preclude getting to enjoy anything _else_ , so…)

“I think about you, you know.”

He’d thought it would even the score, but Amy merely looks irritated.  “What, when you’re fucking intern number six, I help you get to the finish line?”

Maybe he’s messed with her mind one too many times.  She looks like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop – like believing him is just impossible.  (And in a distant part of his mind, Dan registers that it must be hellish, to feel like that all the time).

“No,” he says (shifting his arms, so they're in the right positions), “When I think of you, it’s always just you – and it always starts the same way.”

He stands, with Amy curled up in his arms, and she… she yelps.  Which, he was feeling pretty damn slick pulling that off… but once she’s recovered she wraps her arms around his neck, so it’s not _all_ bad.

He kicks the chair out of his way, and starts walking to the bed, and Amy… Amy is actually giggling (he didn’t even know she could make that noise).

“Seriously,” he says, “You’re not even a little impressed?”

“Oh I am,” she says, still laughing.  “It’s just no one’s carried me since I was like seven years old.”

(He’s surprised by this – Amy’s so small, it seems an obvious move for anyone trying to impress her – but whatever, all the better for him).

She’s playing with his hair, and when he stops by the bed, she gives him this little smile that… there’s just a flavour of the girl he first met all those years ago.

So he throws her on the bed and climbs on top and pulls her pyjamas off… because he’s going to get his mouth on every last inch of her before the sun comes up.

 

* * *

 

Sophie comes to Carson City.

Dan doesn’t ask what “See you later” means.

Amy’s text never arrives.

 

He doesn’t get to touch her.


	4. The Girl Who Came in From the Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How and why Amy went back to Nevada

The first time Amy notices Buddy Calhoun – really notices him, as something more than an obstacle to be navigated – he’s buying her a hotdog. 

Between the continued presence of Jonah and Richard, Selina ignoring every word she says in favour of Bob Bradley, and her new knowledge of Dan having slept with her _sister_ … it had been a festering shit of a day.  She’d been too keyed up and wound tight (and nauseous, every time she thought of Dan and Sophie – and she couldn’t _stop_ thinking of it – it ran through her mind like a damn parade) all day to eat.

(Richard kept offering to get her food – to get her croissants and fruit – throughout the day, and every time, she’d felt her throat closing in on itself.  And Dan had known exactly why, she could tell, could see his self-satisfaction growing each time).

Which is how she ends up pleading with a waitress in Carson City’s shittiest diner to let her in.  The waitress doesn’t like her – calls her one of _those Washington people_ – and Amy’s about to cry from sheer frustration, when Buddy Calhoun swoops in.

“I know the kitchen’s closing, Sal, but you wouldn’t mind if Ms Brookheimer had dessert with me, would you?”

It’s the closest thing to an actual superhero rescue Amy’s ever seen in real life.  In the space of thirty seconds he’s got Sal practically cooing, and she’s agreed not only to the dessert, but to let Amy eat a hotdog (from the vendor outside) inside the diner.

Buddy escorts Amy to his table, his hand warm on the small of her back, and leaves her to wait while he gets her her dinner.  She’s not used to having people help her for no reason, and she’s so very tired that the idea of having to make conversation fills her with a kind of dread… and she doesn’t have even the faintest idea how to tell Selina that Bob is senile.

Fortunately, Buddy seems to recognise her exhaustion for what it is, because when he returns, he lets her eat without forcing her to talk.  He spins some story about how this specific diner makes the best apple pie in the entire United States, which… Amy’s heard too many politicians share almost the exact same anecdote to be charmed, but she appreciates the sincerity with which he tells it.  And when it arrives, the pie _is_ good.

They talk about the recount – about the difficulty of convincing exhausted staff and volunteers to keep going when the campaign was supposed to be over by now – and Amy tells him that Jonah has copied his cowboy boots (with predictable results).

She still kind of wants to put her head on the table and cry (or sleep) (or both) for a week, but under the circumstances, he’s as pleasant company as is possible – and he's flatteringly impressed with her.

She tells him some stories about working for Selina (and tries not to mention Dan) (but it’s hard – Dan’s been so much a part of her best moments – and now her worst) and he laughs, such an appreciative audience that Amy half-wonders if he’s mocking her.

Buddy helps her on with her coat, and insists on walking her back to her (crappy) hotel, and as they walk he asks about her family.  She tells the truth, as much as she can – her sister is…a difficult person (okay, sometimes, a horrible person, but still her _sister_ damnit), and her parents are sweet, but don’t really understand what she does or why it matters to her.

“Still,” Buddy says, “I’m sure they’re very proud when they see you in the White House.”

“Not as proud as they would be if I had a ring on my finger and a small horde of blonde babies.”

“They just want to know you have someone to take care of you.”

“I don’t need – ”

“I’m sure you don’t,” Buddy says, (no doubt sensing the feminist Armageddon about to engulf him) “But they want it all the same – they want you to have everything.  What parent wouldn’t?”

“Well,” Amy says, irritated by his being so reasonable.  “Right now, I think making sure America has a next President is more important.”

Buddy smiles (and perhaps she’s given too much away, said too much, but it’s not like she’s ever going to see him again after this week).

He doesn’t try to kiss her, or even touch her at all, when she says goodnight… but he waits outside until she’s walked through the hotel doors – Amy sees him when she looks back over her shoulder.  It’s faintly ludicrous – it’s not as though anything’s going to happen to her in the notorious crime-hub of Carson City – but it seems well-meant all the same.

Amy feels a little better – just a little – she’s still going to pour herself a very generous drink the moment she can, and maybe cry for ten minutes in the shower.  But she’s steadier.

She thinks. 

Until she gets back to her room and her keycard refuses to work – two-three-four times – and she realises that this, this is the thing today that’s going to break her.

She could go back to the reception and get them to change it – but she’s done that twice already, and there’s a point at which she’ll just seem crazy.  She could hammer on Dan’s door (if he’s there), and get him to do it – and she probably should anyway, because they need to work out a plan for dealing with Bob Bradley – but the thought of seeing his face right now turns her stomach.  (It’s possible she may just lose her temper and slap him… but the fallout would be so ugly it's not worth giving into the temptation).

Amy leans her head against the door and tries, really tries not to cry.  (She doesn’t bang her head against it either, but she’s tempted).  She tries to remember how the hell Dan got it to work, and that just makes her want to cry more (he’d been so _close_ , and she’d thought, for half a second, she’d really thought… but of course not, of course he’d chosen Sophie, had she really been stupid enough to think…)

“Get it together lady,” she mutters to herself in a stern tone, a desperate attempt to stave off tears, and thank fuck, the door-light finally turns green.  She laughs – or sobs maybe – she can’t tell the difference – and as she does so, her skin prickles…like she’s being watched.  (But Dan had said he was going to the bar… and there’s no one in the hallway, so…)

She goes inside and has her shower and tries not to think about any of it.  She fails, obviously, but she’s so drained from the last forty-eight hours (last week) (last month), that she falls asleep before she even intends to.

The next morning, Amy gets up early, dresses for the day ahead, and reads the news while eating the largest breakfast the hotel offers.  She tries to ignore Dan, as much as such a thing is possible, when he joins her, and keeps her responses to his questions absolutely minimal.  She knows that, in a way, by doing this she’s just playing into his hands, proving that he really has hurt her – but she doesn’t know what else to _do_.  It’s not okay, what he’s done, and she can’t let him think it’s okay, and at least ignoring him pisses him off.

When, later that afternoon, Buddy joins her by the coffee stand, she doesn’t think much of it.  He’s a kind man, and reasonably intelligent, and frankly far more tolerable than most of the idiots she has to deal with (and usually, usually _Dan_ would be the one she’d turn to in this situation, but that was shit now).

It takes a day or two before Amy realises she’s effectively using Buddy as a human shield – but when she does, she doesn’t feel bad particularly bad about it.  He’s not exactly showing signs of falling in love with her or anything, and… and it’s _fun_ to see the shock on his face every time she swears.

The recount ends, of course, and she leaves Nevada, and she doesn’t think about Buddy Calhoun until the Congressional Ball.  And then… 

It had been a hellish month.  Selina was sniping at her constantly, Sophie and Dan seem to have made some mutual agreement to shove their liaison down her throat at every possible opportunity, Dan ruined her Thanksgiving (because of fucking _course_ he did), and it’s like everyone is desperate to remind her that, according to Washington, she’s no longer even pretty.

(Amy knows she’s being ridiculous – she knows the list is meaningless and offensive and doesn’t matter – but she really, _really_ needs something to good to happen).

Buddy’s eyes actually light up when he sees her, and he looks handsome in his tux, and she takes him home with her because… why the fuck not?  Why shouldn’t she?

Only of course Dan is blowing up her phone, wanting to facetime or skype or whatever, and no matter how many times she rejects the call, he just keeps ringing.  She eventually gives in to the inevitable, installs Buddy on her couch with a drink, and carries her iPad into the kitchen so she can return the call in peace.  She only has the damn thing because Dan insisted.

She calls him, and tries to position the iPad at an angle that doesn’t give her multiple chins – and she knows he’s picked up when she hears Jonah whoop.

“Shut the fuck up,” she says (on instinct).  Just because the camera may have been momentarily pointing at her cleavage doesn’t mean he has an excuse.

And then she gets the iPad into a stable position, and can look at the screen properly, and it… it is the funniest thing she has _ever_ seen. 

Mike had mentioned something about Jonah having a new look, but she hadn’t really thought much about it at the time.  But seeing it now... brings actual tears to her eyes.  (And a realisation that her dress is too tight for this much laughter).

Dan is sitting beside Jonah and smirking, so he’s probably worked out why she’s making dying seal noises.  “You turned him into your Ken doll,” Amy says, though it’s more of a gasp, with all of the laughter she’s trying to hold back.  “Oh my god, did you lend him all your hair products?  Did you have to teach him how to do that?”

“You like what you see, do you – ”

“Shut the fuck _up_ Jonad.  This is like an early Christmas present.  How many pairs of glasses did you make him try on?  Did you get him a sex slave too?  Oh, my god, do you know his inside leg measurement now?”  (She can’t help it, she’s picturing the two of them shopping, and Dan focusing all his sociopathic attention to detail on Jonah’s wardrobe, and she’s practically _gurgling_ ).  “Please tell me Catherine filmed it?”

Jonah nudges Dan (who’s clearly trying not to smile).  “Told you bitches like – ”

“One,” Amy says, “Don’t call me a bitch, don’t do that, you’re supposed to be a real politician now, and it’s _not_ okay.  And two, it doesn’t matter how much he pretties you up, Jonah,” (And she starts snorting with laughter again, she can’t help it), “Because you still have your personality, and believe me, that’s prophylactic enough.  Now what do you two want?”

“Jonah just wanted to say hello,” Dan says, and Amy grimaces.

“Yeah, and you’re looking good, Ames, like top-fifty –”

“Are you fucking serious?  If you were within reach I’d slap you so hard you’d be normal-sized.”

“Maybe I should try the other Brookheimer,” Jonah says, and Amy inhales.  She feels something sharp in her throat – she feels like Jonah has just back-handed her out of no where, and for one horrible second, she has no idea what to say.  But Jonah, thankfully, reliable as always, blunders on.  “I’ve heard she’s a lot more fun, there are stories, she’s game for –”

“Don’t you ever talk to me about Sophie again, don’t you _ever_.  Do you _hear_ me Jonah?  Keep your twisted, fucked-up fantasises away from my _family_ or I swear to –”

Joanh actually looks alarmed.  (Good).  “I’m sorry, Amy, I didn’t… I mean, you really do look good, I mean good enough to – I just wanted to say it, cause you know I’m thinking it.”

She looks down at her hands and tries to remember that there is a kind, charming man waiting for her in the next room.  (She also tries _not_ to think about whether this means Jonah will be masturbating to her cleavage – mostly because she knows he will).  When she looks up, he’s gone, and Dan’s smirking at her, same as always.

“What do you want?” She only asks because she wants the conversation to end.

“How did the Congressional handjobs go?”

Amy shrugs.  “Fuck knows.  One of them brought a prostitute with him, so there was that.  Oh, and Catherine’s gay now, did you know?  With her Mom’s body double.”

Dan’s smile at that is far from innocent, and he launches into the sob story of Jonah’s campaign, and Amy laughs at the right points, and wonders why he’s even bothering.  So Jonah ranted about exterminating people with disabilities.  She’d be very surprised if it’s the worst thing he’s ever said – and Dan has already rushed out a clarifying statement, with testimony from the woman involved, so… she’s not sure what extra advice he thinks she can give.

But he rambles on and on, and eventually asks if she can come up to New Hampshire to help him run the campaign.

“I don’t think so,” Amy says.  “It’s cold up there and…you don’t need me, you’ve got it in hand.”

“Well I want you,” Dan says, sounding angry (more so than usual).  “If I have to put up with Jonah and Richard for much longer, I don’t know –”

“Oh, you’re saying I’m preferable to Richard and Jonah?  You silver-tongued devil, now you’ve convinced me.”

“Jeff Kane is actually worse.”

“None of this is sounding even the least bit tempting.”

“Come on,” he says, and it’s almost sincere.  “I could really use you.”

“ _No_ , Dan.  I know you’re not used to hearing, but no.  Time for you to run a campaign all on your lonesome – isn’t that what you want?”

Something in her tone must set him off, because he gives her that look – like she’s a little crazy and he’s worried, instead of entertained – a look she’s only seen once or twice from him.  “What’s the matter with you?”

She looks at her hands again – she genuinely doesn’t know what to say.  She feels raw inside, as though some protective layer has been scraped away – he hurt her, and no matter how hard she tries, she can’t seem to _stop_ being hurt.  And the mere fact that she’s hurt – that she _let_ him hurt her, _again_ – makes her so angry she can barely speak.  She wants to slap _herself_.

“I’m just really tired,” she says finally – it sounds true, because it actually is.

“Is that why you came home early?”

“Something like that.”

She doesn’t want Dan to know about Buddy.  If he knew he’d… he’d either get jealous, the way he has in the past, and she… she doesn’t trust herself not to erupt in incandescent _rage_ , because after Sophie, how _dare_ he? 

Or he wouldn’t.  And that might actually hurt more.

“Goodnight Dan,” Amy says, and hangs up.  She lets her head hang loose on her shoulders for a moment, feeling the ends of her hair on the skin of her shoulders.  And then she joins Buddy.

* * *

 

 

Sex with Buddy is… is weird.  Good, but weird.  (Still, she comes almost every time).

He treats her like she’s delicate, like she’s precious.  Amy’s not normally touchy, or clingy, or any of that, but… there’s something intoxicating in the way he looks at her, like he almost can’t believe his good luck in being allowed to touch her (which is how he _should_ feel, goddamnit).

He holds her afterwards, stroking her skin like it’s a privilege – but he doesn’t mind when she has to pull away.  He asks to stay the night, and it’s clear he really does want to, and it’s clear that he won’t take offence if she asks him to leave.  He tells her she’s beautiful, and tells her she’s amazing, and tells her he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about her, and… it’s so _easy_ for him, saying how he feels.

(She laps it up, she can’t help it, it’s like the best kind of drunkenness, and she wonders… is this how it feels for Dan?  Is this why he fucks around so much?  Maybe she should do it more). 

Buddy’s in DC for a week, and he asks to take her out every night, for drinks or for dinner-  and when she has to cancel one evening, he doesn’t pout, doesn’t twitch, just asks if he can see her the next day instead.

The sex is… the sex is not exceptional, if she’s honest, but everything around it is so great that… Amy thinks she could get used to it.  She won’t, obviously – he’s in Nevada, she’s in DC – but it would be so easy to just…fall into letting him look after her, letting him pet her and kiss her and….fall in love with her, if that’s what he wants to do.

Dan calls every night – unloading on her about the campaign and strategizing and… he doesn’t seem to notice that she’s in restaurants and bars, not the usual quiet of her apartment.  (Which is fine – if he doesn’t notice, she doesn’t need to tell him).

Every night, he asks her to come to New Hampshire, and every night she says no.  Selina needs her (even if she won’t admit it), and Christmas is coming, and… she doesn’t _want_ to see him.  She’s maintaining a delicate equilibrium, and she wants to keep it that way.

So when, on Buddy’s last day in DC, Ben tells her she’s being sent to New Hampshire, that they’ve booked her on the evening flight, she comes damn near losing her temper.  (But she doesn’t, because she knows Ben, which means she knows he won’t give a shit).

She was _supposed_ to be having an early dinner with Buddy – she was supposed to kiss him goodbye and go Christmas shopping for Sophie’s kids – but instead she has to go home and pack a case.  (She’s not asking Sophie to send her clothes ever again).

She packs in record time, and eats some of the leftover takeout from her fridge, and when she gets a message from Dan saying Richard will pick her up from the airport… she bursts into tears, just a little.

She doesn’t want to see him.  She doesn’t want to go to New Hampshire, and she doesn’t want to talk to him, and she doesn’t want to have him remind her, again, that he chose Sophie.

But what she wants isn’t what’s important.  Making Selina President is what’s important, and so Amy presses her face against the cool door of the refrigerator, and crams all those messy broken painful feelings back down inside where they belong.  She has a job to do.

By the time her Uber comes, she’s dabbed her face with cold water and fixed her make-up.  Having a nervous breakdown in her kitchen isn’t going to make Dan less unbearable or Jonah less of a terrible candidate.  All it will too is exhaust her when she needs to be at the top of her game.  There’s too much at stake.

She meets Buddy at the airport, and when he sees her, he smiles – automatically, instinctively – and it just… even if it is stupid, even if it’s probably fake, it warms the chilly place inside her.  They grab coffees and pastry, and when Amy’s flight is delayed, she pulls him into one of the disabled toilets, and kisses along his neck until he gets the idea.

It’s not the best handjob she’s ever given (the angle is awkward, to say the least), but somehow… she doesn’t think Buddy cares.  And when his breathing has returned to normal, he drops to his knees and more than reciprocates.

Amy’s head thuds against the door when she comes and… and she feels the opposite of shaky, she feels solid, firm and strong within her own skin, as though her feet are finally planted on the ground.

Buddy says he wants to keep seeing her, and Amy barely manages to stop herself from asking why.  She’s not sweet, or kind, the way he is, she’s not anything like the kind of woman he should be with, and soon he’s going to work that out.  But she just smiles, kisses him gently, and says, “You have my number.”

She makes to leave – to exit on a good line – but Buddy stops her and… and actually kisses her hand.  (She’s never seen that happen in real life).  For the first time since she brought him home, Amy feels like she’s the one with starry-eyes.

And then her flight is called, and she has to run to the gate – case in hand – and board the plane while trying to download the fifty-seven or so documents Dan wants her to read.  It’s only when she’s in her seat that she sees Buddy’s text.

“I meant what I said.  You’re like no one I’ve ever met before.  Please call.”

Amy laughs a little – does he think she’s some kind of free-spirit dream girl?  Because if so… he’s in for a very rude surprise.

She doesn’t understand how he can just… expose himself to her like that, so easily, open his heart to her knife without even seeming afraid.  Doesn’t he know what she could _do_ to him?  (On the rare occasions when Amy’s acted like that… well, it’s backfired horribly, every time.  That’s why she doesn’t, any more).  She could _crush_ him, horribly, laughing the whole time, and Buddy… Buddy doesn’t even seem to realise it.

By the time the plane lands, she’s read through most of Dan’s press pack – and she’s starting to see why he’s been in such a bad mood.  (But there’s no mention of him actually _attacking_ Jonah, so at least that’s something).

Richard, of course, is late to pick her up, and struggles to pay for parking and to get her case into the car (and the car is the most ridiculous penismobile Amy has ever seen – because of course it is – she practically needs a step ladder to get into the damn thing), and as he burbles on about the campaign, and Jonah, and Dan, and which Julia Roberts-Richard Gere film is the best, Amy takes deep, slow breaths and tries to think soothing thoughts of holding his head under water.  (It doesn’t really work).

They pull up at the campaign headquarters, just as Dan and Jonah are finishing up for the night (Dan’s locking the door and shouting at Jonah, which seems about right).  Only Richard, being Richard, can’t park.

When Amy opens her door, she realises he’s stranded her a good two feet away from the kerb – further than she can jump in her skirt and heels.  There’s snow piled up in the space between the kerb and the car, so she can’t jump on to that either, meaning her only option is to crawl over the front seat (with her ass in full view of everyone), and hope the other side is better.

Some day, some day she is going to _murder_ Richard, if for no other reason than that right now he’s _smiling_ at her, actually proud of himself for getting her case out of the trunk without starting a small fire or an international incident.

Jonah starts talking about his precision driving skills and how he would have parked the car properly, and Richard suggests they find a plank or some plastic sheeting to help her get down, and why, oh why, is the whole world built to accommodate these six-foot-plus goons?

They keep coming up with stupider and stupider suggestions, each somehow more moronic than the last, and Amy is definitely going to kill one or both of them (Jonah first), and at some point the annoyance of watching them must outweigh Dan’s pleasure in her frustration, because he shoulders past Jonah, muttering, “Fucking idiots,” and picks her up.

He actually picks her up.

He puts his hands under her coat, and lifts her by the waist, and she has to clutch at him, at his shoulders, in the most abject and embarrassing way, and he swings her down onto the sidewalk before she’s even said a word.  (She has to cling to him for a second, let him take all her weight, because the sheer surprise of it robbed her of her sense of balance).

Jonah mutters something about how he could have done that – and Richard says he lacks the upper body strength – and Amy, she can’t even look at Dan.  If she looks at him, she’s fairly certain she’s going to try and strangle him – the absolute effrontery of it, the way he just _assumes_ he can touch her like that, like he has any right to her (and fuck the part of her that finds it hot, fuck it forever).

She _hates_ when he does things like this.  She gets trapped in this fucked up game of chess where if she reacts at all, it shows he has power over her, and he _wins_ – and if she doesn’t, well that means he gets to think whatever he’s done is all right, and he _wins_. 

Amy wonders when she forgot that she hates his guts.

She’s all tangled up in her anger, trying to regain her balance, and wanting Dan to take his hands off her (and wanting him to keep his hands _on_ her), and she doesn’t even really notice Dan telling Jonah and Richard to fuck off.

It’s colder than she thought it would be. 

Dan takes her case from Richard, and won’t give it back, because she’ll be too slow dragging it behind her, he wants to get inside now, and she’s already slow, and he’s helping her, really.  (He says all this despite the fact that she’s clearly trotting to keep up with his longer strides, because he’s an asshole).

They end up in his room, because Dan wants to rant, and when a campaign manager wants to abuse his candidate for forty minutes straight, you don’t let him do it in a public location.  He at least has the decency to get her a drink before he starts (but he doesn’t bother to ask if she’s eaten, if she’s hungry, because why would he do that?)

He gives her an odd look when she lies down on the bed – a look with half a smile in it – but Amy can’t be bothered to ask why.  It’s been too long a day for her to care about his facial tics.  She clasps her hands over her stomach, and listens to him complain – about Jeff Kane, about Bill Ericson, about widows, about Richard’s complete inability to work a camera, about the White House not supporting him, which... 

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“ _After_ I got Ben to make you come.  Like they haven’t fucked me over – ”

“Idiot.  You know, there’s a reason it was Bill who went to jail and not you, and it’s not because you’re so brilliant.  You should count yourself lucky Selina likes you.”

“Likes me?  Are you fucking serious?”

And then he’s off again, how Selina’s done nothing but yell at him and abuse him, and Ben has enabled her, and … jesus, it’s like being his girlfriend, only without out any of the good parts.  (Though Dan would never make himself this vulnerable in front of a woman he wanted to date, not ever).

Amy closes her eyes, not listening to his words, not really, but the tone.  He sounds angry and frustrated and petulant, but the manic, out-of-control quality she remembers from London isn’t there, so he’s probably fine.

Naturally, Dan doesn’t like this either.  “Are you even listening to me?”

“Of course I am,” she says, keeping her eyes closed.  “I am listening to and absorbing all of your bitching and moaning, because apparently that’s my job now.  I’m your fucking tampon.”

There’s a pause, and when she opens her eyes to look at him, she sees the same disgusted expression he always uses, and she just doesn’t have the patience for it.  “Do you even know how many women you’ve fucked?  Literally, I mean.”

His grin is so smug it looks like it might split his head open.  “Jealous?”

“Not even close to my point.  You’ve lived with women; I remember you saying.”

“So?”

“So grow the fuck up.  Be an actual man, not some precious little baby, and accept…it’s a thing that happens.”  Amy swings her legs off the bed and looks for her shoes.  If she stays much longer she may actually bite him.  (And not in a fun way).  _Everything_ about Dan bothers her right now – even catching his eye makes her want to slap the freckles right off him.

“Are you on your period, Amy, is that why –”

“You think I have to be on my period for you to irritate the shit out of me?  No.  You do that all by yourself.”

He doesn’t even really respond, just smirks, and god, she hates it, she really does.  (She tries to remember how it felt to have Buddy’s skin under her fingers, his mouth on hers, but with Dan right there, the memory has no potency).

“Unless you have something you actually _need_ my input on, I’m going to bed.”

“Well then thank you for warming mine,” he says, all smarm. “Now it even smells nice.”

“Fuck you,” she says, and her voice doesn’t crack and she doesn’t cry, and she really does hate him so much more than she’s ever hated anyone.

* * *

  

Her room is cold.  Her room is more than cold, in fact, she wakes herself up twice the first night with shivering, and when she gets up in the morning she can see her breath.

She puts on every layer she can and goes to scream at the receptionist – who promises to get it fixed (but not in a way that inspires confidence).  So, the first chance she gets, she ducks out of the campaign office and buys thermal pyjamas and two hot water bottles.  (The second time she woke up she was so cold she actually considered knocking on Dan’s door and asking if she could sleep in his room.  She’s not risking that again – she might not be able to resist the temptation next time).

She does her best to help with the campaign where she can – but other than adding a little extra vitriol to the semi-constant abuse directed at Jonah, she’s not sure she’s contributing much.  (She’s not sure there’s much she _can_ – sometimes a candidate is so awful they can’t _be_ helped).

Dan at least seems… well not happier (she’s not sure she’s ever seen him look recognisably _happy_ , not really), but less on edge. 

Buddy texts her a couple of times a day – pictures mostly – and she sends him overly cute replies, that aren’t really like her at all (it had started as a joke, but he takes it seriously and Amy… Amy lets him). 

The heating in her room doesn’t get fixed – so she stays in the hotel bar every night until it closes, reading a book and trying to radiate ‘leave me alone’ to anyone looking.  (She refuses to notice Dan hitting on other women – because if she does, he’ll only do it more). 

With the cold, her sleep is…disordered, and shallow, and when she gives Dan the paper on her third morning, he looks at her sharply.  (When, an hour later, they’ve stopped at a gas station and he suggests she buy a pair of gloves, she realises her hands must be icy).

She knows she’s being more than usually hateful – but she’s so tired, and so cold all the time, that she can’t quite help it.  She doesn’t want to.  The hotel can’t – won’t – move her to another room, and even when they move an air heater in, it’s like there’s something knotted and frostbitten deep down inside her.  Even Jonah looks wary of her (at long fucking last).

She’s so incredibly relieved when the campaign is over, and all that’s left is waiting for the count.  Jonah will win, and Selina will win, and she can go home and have a good night’s sleep.

Dan and Jonah are being more than usually insufferable, their nerves making them twitchy and snappish.  There’s no point in reasoning with them, so Amy drags them to a bar in the hope that if she drinks some alcohol, she’ll be better able to tolerate them.

Which is when Jonah decides to stick his big foot in it, touching her shoulder as she tries to signal the barman.  “I just wanted to say, Amy, thank you, for all your work on the campaign.”

“I did nothing, thank Dan.”

“And,” Jonah says, ignoring her, “I didn’t mean to upset you, before, on the phone, when I mentioned your sister.  I hope you know that… that I value our special relationship far too much to ever want to ruin it by upsetting you.”

He’s such a colossal idiot, it’s like he doesn’t even realise he’s just unpinned a grenade, like he doesn’t even see the blood drain out of her face, too wound up in his own complicated feelings to recognise basic social cues.

Amy can _feel_ Dan staring at her, and… there’s no point, there’s no point in anything, if she cries (because fucking Jonah, an actual mutated orang-utan with feelings, cares more about her than he does), or looks hurt, or _anything_ … then he’s won.  And he’ll make her feel it.

So she leans over the bar, and orders four shots of tequila, before turning back to Jonah and saying.  “ _We_ don’t have a ‘relationship.’  We never did.  We don’t have anything.  It’s not possible to have one with your kind of hollowed out shell of a person.  All you are, is someone I have to see whether I like it or not, and if it was up to me… I would never have even met you.”

Her shots arrive, and both of them go to take one (selfish bastards), so she slaps their hands away.  She downs the first one as Jonah says, “I didn’t realise Sophie and Mike bothered you so much.”

“Mike?”  It takes her a moment, but then Amy laughs, because… it’s just too good.  “How did you even know about that?”

“I got sources,” Jonah says (trying to look knowledgeable).  “People are always willing to deep throat for Jonah.”

“And then they gag – the way I just did.  Thanks.  But that was _years_ ago – I was only just out of college – why would would anyone still be talking about it?”

“Well,” Jonah says, looking at his feet, “I asked about you.”

“It wasn’t _me_ Jonah, Jesus, I have some…standards, morals, I don’t even know.  And making out with Mike at the summer recess party… I think Sophie was drunk.  One of them had to be drunk.”

“Or both,” Dan says, and he’s not looking at her any more, he’s checking his phone, and his tone is oddly…mild. 

Amy drinks her second shot.  “Anyway, that’s when I stopped bringing my sister to things – she barely understands how…”  Her voice trailed off because she’d been going to say ‘how contraception works,’ but a horrible, horrible thought had just struck her.  (That wouldn’t happen.  Dan was careful, at least about things like that).  (But Sophie wasn’t).

Amy wants to run to the bathroom and throw up.   She wants to, even though with her rational mind, she knows it won’t help anything, won’t make her feel better, won’t do anything except make everything worse.  But she still wants to.

She grabs the third shot and swallows, trying to comfort herself with the thought that Dan wouldn’t be so stupid – when they’d hooked up he’d been careful, and there was no reason to think that had changed (and it’s the most fucked up situation she’s in, having to reassure herself like this).

Dan’s still checking his phone, and maybe he doesn’t realise that she’s seconds away from grabbing him by the tie and asking if he used a condom.  (If Sophie’s pregnant… that’s it, Amy’s emigrating.  There’s got to be some lovable Canadian politician looking for a strategist).

She’s never been more relied to see Richard approach, all cheerful incompetence.  “Ms Brookheimer, I have a message for you.”  (Amy has to prompt him, because of course he has to be told to actually give it to her).  “The hotel manager called – he said your heating is working now.”

She hugs him.

Or, to be more accurate, she means to hug him, but more…falls onto him while trying to get off her stool.  She doesn’t usually hug anyone, she’s not touchy like that, but Richard’s grinning at her with his usual delighted, asinine expression, and she just… she can’t not.

“You’re sure that’s what they said?  The heat is definitely back on?”

“Yes, that’s it exactly.  But I can go check, if you’d like, I could test the thermostat?”

He’d probably break it. 

“No. No, it’s fine, I believe you.  I… I’ve been _so_ cold.”

“Why didn’t you say so, Amy, you could have slept in my room, no doubt, I’d have found a way to heat you all the way back up.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re not capable of being around me – or probably any woman – without sexually harassing me in the stupidest way possible.  Death by hypothermia would be better.”

Jonah actually looks hurt, which…is so _typical_ of him, his complete lack of self-awareness (what does he think using extortion to make her date him was?).  She doesn’t care – she’s already thinking about the hot bath she’s going to have, about wallowing in the glorious sensation of actually being _warm_. 

Dan leans over her and drinks her final shot.

“That’s mine.”

“If you drink a fourth one, you will literally be on the floor – I remember.  Plus, the result’s due, so we need to get back.”

He herds them all out, herding Amy the most, one hand resting on her upper back for much longer than it should, and as they walk back, he pulls her slightly to one side. 

“If it was such a problem, you should have said something.”

“There were no other rooms – what would be the point?”

“I had a room, you could have – ”

“Had a front row seat for your dick’s tour of New Hampshire?  No.”  Dan takes a breath, and she pre-empts him.  “And if you’re about to say there’s no audience, only participants, don’t.”  She stumbles slightly, as they turn a corner, and his hand is on her arm, steadying her, safe and reliable, all the things he _isn’t._   “I did think of it, but then I remembered that you don’t give a shit, so…”

“It’s not like you’re much fun to be around when you’re cranky.” 

“Yeah, well,” Amy says, pushing open the door to the count centre.  “I never said I was fun.”

And then she walks away from him, because the concerned puppy eyes he’s giving her are just pissing her off.  He can’t do everything in his power to convince her that she doesn’t matter to him… and then get angry when she accepts that that’s true.

Buddy’s sent her a photo of a blood-red sunset with the caption, ‘Made me think of you,’ and Amy smiles to herself and snuggles further into her coat.  She’s going to drunk dial him later.

She reads the latest newsfeeds, and checks her emails (the Camp David summit is predictably chaotic), and drinks the coffee that Richard brings her… and when the result is announced she congratulates Dan.  She can do this – she can be gracious.  (Buddy thinks she’s beautiful – sunset beautiful – so it’s okay.  She’s okay)

She can deal with him – she can be happy for him – and she can commiserate with him, because nobody wants to make it into the history books by getting _Jonah_ elected.

At least, she thinks she can.  They walk back to the hotel together (Jonah is, in his words, ‘enjoying the fruits of victory,’ which is too gross to think about).  Dan stops her by the bar, putting his hand on her arm.  “How about a nightcap?”

She… she can’t understand… _why_ does he have to keep doing this?  Why keep rubbing her nose in it and throwing it in her face?  Isn’t it enough that he picked Sophie over her, why does he have to keep making a point of _reminding_ her?

She’s always known he can be cruel, but…

Amy wrenches her arm out of his grasp, so angry she can barely even see.  “Fuck _you_.  Fuck you forever, Dan, I hope your dick gets eaten by wolves.”

And she storms away before he can say anything, before he can call her crazy or menstrual or whatever other charming term he comes up with.  She just…doesn’t want to know any more. 

So she goes to her room – which is finally fit for human habitation – and she calls Buddy, and tells him about the election, and her Christmas plans (a flight back to DC, dinner with her family, and sleeping), and he asks her to come back to Nevada, when things have calmed down, when she can finally rest, and… and she says she’ll think about it.  She falls asleep as he talks to her, and it’s the first full night of sleep she’s had in weeks.  He has a nice voice.

She and Dan don’t talk much on the plane – she’s dreading the afternoon with her family and Dan… Dan’s probably basking in multiple kinds of afterglow.

In an ideal world, she’d go home with him instead, and fall asleep on his chest while he watched whatever stupid comedy he felt like, and that would be enough.  For her.

But not for him, and Amy needs to get this into her head sooner rather than later.  Dan doesn’t want her, he never did, she’s just a tool to him, and she’s going to go to Nevada and fuck its Secretary of State every night for a week, and that will be better.

Her Dad picks her up at the airport (and thank god for that, because her Mom would’ve made Dan join them when she heard he was alone at Christmas), and brings her home for dinner, and it’s the usual unbearable chaos, all noise and stupid arguments and too much food.  (When Sophie bitches about her period pains, Amy’s so relieved she almost breaks her glass).

She gets home late, and turns on her computer to book her flight to Nevada.  She searches for the week before the inauguration – there won’t be a transition to manage, and Dan will probably be thrilled to write the Inaugural Address without her.

As the payment goes through, she checks her phone, and sees he’s sent her a message.

“Merry Christmas crazy.”

She opens the notification – to see the time stamp – and realises he’d sent the message hours ago, not long after she left him at the airport.  Perhaps the wait will have done him good – given him a taste of his own medicine.

But when, out of morbid curiosity, she scrolls back through their text thread… none of her messages from that night are there.  Not a single one – the word nightcap is nowhere to be seen. 

Her confirmation email comes through as she’s puzzling over it (she didn’t hallucinate sending twenty-plus messages) – and she goes to text Ben, to say she’s requesting time off – and that’s when she realises what happened.

She’d texted Ben.

It’s not better – it doesn’t make her _feel_ better – but at least, at least she hadn’t exposed herself to Dan in the way that she’d thought.  That’s something.

And she’s going to see Buddy – who can’t stop being overwhelmed by how sweet and beautiful and brilliant she is, and who therefore may not have the firmest grasp on reality, but who looks at her like she’s _glorious_.

So she texts him back.

“Merry Christmas fuckweasel.”


	5. While You Were Sleeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-ep for 2.01

While You Were Sleeping

Amy walks into the room, clutching a lipstick and looking as though she wants to stab someone (more so than usual).  He’s glad she’s back, because Mike’s advice on smiling and avoiding the word plurality was as useless as Mike – and fortunately, whatever it was that had made her all shaky and teary earlier in the evening seemed to have been resolved.

For once without arrogance, Dan can honestly say he’s doing the best of all of them – Selina looked like she could barely sit up straight, and Amy had that slightly bug-eyed expression that, over the last year, he’d learned was a sure indication she’d gone too long without sleep.

They’re fifteen interviews in when there’s a brief pause, and Amy wanders off in the direction of the coffee-pot, scrolling through her phone messages as she goes.  Dan is checking the list of interviews still to be done, and actively trying to tune Jonah out (why is he even here?  Some twisted presidential revenge?) so his conversation with Mike doesn’t initially register.

“And you know, if she needs a shoulder to cry on – or nibble on – I’ll be right –”

“Listen to me, you shaved fucking ape,” Mike says, and it’s angriest Dan’s ever heard him sound (at least, sober).  “You don’t use the fact that a woman’s father is dying as an excuse to hit on her.  Be a gentleman for once in your miserable life.”

“Wait, dying?” Dan asks, as Selina interjects, “Don’t make me have the Secret Service drop you in the Chesapeake Jonah.”

Amy returns, saying that she and Selina will be briefed on Uzbekistan in a couple of hours, and no one answers Dan’s question.  It’s not like he even needs them to – one look at Amy, one proper look, makes it obvious.  The grip she has on her phone is excessive, even for her, her face is weirdly ‘set,’ and…she’s actually hugging herself.  If he’d looked at her properly, earlier in the evening, he would have noticed – but he hadn’t.  (Or maybe, maybe she hadn’t let him, maybe she’d been all buttoned up and forceful as a front, so he wouldn’t see.) 

He might have joked about taking her job once or twice – stepping into her role the way he had tonight – but… he gets a flash of what it would be like if this was why, what her face would be like if her father died, all drawn in and white, and… that’s not how he wants to beat Amy.   There’d be no fun in it if he didn’t get to enjoy her anger with him.

They finish the interviews – somehow – and Selina says she’s going to snatch a few hours’ sleep on the sofa, so they should all fuck off.  With, for once, nothing else to do, they trail off to the canteen – arguing, in desultory fashion – about who will stick around to staff the Veep.  Amy finally snaps (he thinks Gary’s bickering with Sue was what did it), and says, “Sue, go home – the diary can wait twenty-four hours, everyone’s too shell-shocked to make plans anyway.  Gary, you’re staying, because I _cannot deal_ with her goija berry bullshit today.  Mike, Dan, fight it out between yourselves, I don’t care, we only need one of you.  And Jonah, please crawl back into the primordial soup that should never have given birth to you.”

Dan ends up staying, and weirdly, Amy looks _relieved_.  He would have thought that, under the circumstances, she’d prefer Mike… but when Mike, on his way out, squeezes her shoulder, saying, “I hope you get good news Amer,” he gets it.  Amy tenses so much it’s actually visible, and… that’s fine, he’s not going to get all emotional on her, he’s not going to be nice to her, she doesn’t have to worry about that.

They don’t really get anything done – Dan tries to pull together a media strategy for Selina’s new foreign policy role, but ends up staring at his screen, mindlessly trying to remember how to spell Uzbekistan.

He’s still trying to get his head around it, when State and the CIA arrive to brief Selina and Amy – which, on one level, he’s annoyed not to be in the room, he’s going to have do just as much work to sell it as Amy – but he’s also relieved that he doesn’t have to pretend his brain is in full working order.  Fucking midterms.

Gary’s fidgeting at the door, distraught at being separated from Selina, and Dan’s about to tell him to fuck off anywhere else (off a cliff maybe), when Amy comes bursting through the door, phone jammed against her ear.  (And the squeak Gary makes when the door almost hits him is a _gift_ ).

Amy perches on the far side of Dan’s desk – where she always does – her head tilted forward so that her hair covers her face (or would, if he was in a position to see it).  She’s speaking in a low voice – too low for him to catch the words – and Dan finds himself fixating on her free hand.  She’s wrapped her arm around herself, and clenched her hand in a fist, and it’s as though his whole field of vision is taken up by her knuckles, all white against the dark material of her suit.

He doesn’t want to be here – if Amy’s father is dead he doesn’t want to see it – if Amy’s about to find out that he died and she wasn’t there… he doesn’t want to be here when it happens, he doesn’t want to see her face crumple and tighten with the effort of holding in real grief.

Amy hangs up her phone, and leans her head forward heavily, her shoulders shaking, and Dan… Dan doesn’t have a fucking clue what he’s supposed to do in this situation.  Should he stand up – take her phone away – hug her? 

The increasingly agonised looks Gary keeps giving him don’t help at all – Gary’s known her for longer – just because he dated Amy once, a long while ago now, doesn’t mean he knows what to do when she’s crying.  He’d specifically avoided ever putting himself in a position where he’d need to.

Which is why it’s such a relief when Selina stomps into the room, all frustration.  “What the _fuck_ Amy?  That’s a major intelligence briefing, not a –”

“I’m sorry Ma’am,” Amy says, lifting her head at long last.  “It’s my Dad, they…”  (There are definitely tears in her voice now, and Dan doesn’t know where to look.  He might be sick).  “They just got the results of the brain scan, and… it wasn’t a stroke, his brain is… he’s fine.”

“Okay,” Selina says, giving both Gary and Dan filthy looks (as though this is _their_ fault).  “Is he going to be all right?”

“They’re… He’s having some trouble breathing, still, so… they’re keeping him in overnight, but… I think so.  I hope so.”

Amy’s voice is all wet and happy and exhausted – he can actually hear the release of tension as she speaks, and it doesn’t surprise Dan at all when Selina leans in and hugs her (and Amy lets her).  It’s the first time all day she’s looked…even on the same continent as relaxed, and Selina doesn’t seem nearly as irritated as she usually is by having to see to someone else’s needs.

“Now,” Selina says, “Ready to get back to work?”

Amy dabs at her eyes, (but this is _happy_ crying, it’s fine, he can deal with that).  “Yes Ma’am.”

Dan stands then – to hand her a tissue, since she definitely needs one, and, looking rather startled, Amy takes it.  It’s not what he _wants_ to do – he wants to sling his arm over her shoulders, or hug her, or something (that’s what he’s _supposed_ to do, right?) – but he suspects, he thinks… she probably wouldn’t want that, it’d just make her uncomfortable (which he’s fine with, usually… but not _now_ ).

“Thanks,” she says, and walks back into Selina’s office.  And he doesn’t see her again until just before five, when the briefing finally breaks up.  She’s yawning as she approaches his desk.  “Selina’s going home, so we’re free to go.  Though I don’t know, maybe you want to stick around, see if you can find your way into Kent Davidson’s underwear drawer.”

“Nah,” he says, “There's time.  I don’t want to rush the seduction.”

“That’s a first.”

She’s genuinely trying, but she can’t summon up anything close to her usual venom.  She looks a little lost, and watches him gather his things in an absent kind of way.

“Come on,” he says, touching her lower back.  “I’ll walk you down.”

Amy jolts at his touch, but she must be really out of it, because she just nods and grabs her coat.  (He could get used to her being this agreeable, but it is, on at least some level, rather unnerving).

They don’t speak – Amy looks like she’s minutes away from just leaning against the wall and popping off right there.  It’s so different from their usual interactions that Dan doesn’t know where to look or what to say – so much so that it’s almost (but only almost) a relief when Jonah steps into the lift with them.

He hasn’t even opened his mouth before Amy is shaking her head.  “No,” she says, “I can’t.”

“So Amy, I heard your Dad’s doing better.  Hope you know I –”

“Jonah my entire family could be wiped out in a mass murder and I still wouldn’t be depressed enough to sleep with you.  Fuck off.”  And then Amy steps away from Jonah and around Dan, putting him between them, and he is going to mock her for that later (he never expected that _he’d_ be her human shield when something is upsetting her).

By the time they reach the carpark, she’s yawning heavily, and Jonah is following suit (and Dan never needed to see _that_ ).  When they separate, he wants to say _something_ , but he can’t think of anything that won’t sound completely insincere.  So he lets her go.

It’s only when he’s driving out, and sees her still outside her car (leaning her head against it for support), that he can think of something.

“Planning to spend the night?”

“No,” Amy says, blinking at him.  “I can’t find my keys.”  She gestures at her handbag.  “They’re in there, I just –”

“Get in,” Dan says, surprising himself.

“What?”

“I’ll drive you home – you’re in no state to do it.”

“Why?” she says, all suspicion.  “What’s in it for –”

“If you knock over someone’s grandma, I’m the one who’ll have to deal with the press fallout.  It’s self-preservation, really.”

She hesitates, and Dan can actually _see_ her weighing up her options (her face is expressive, but she’s not usually _this_ transparent), and in the end, exhaustion clearly wins out, because she walks round and climbs in, strapping herself into the passenger seat with only a mild expression of consternation.

“If this all part of some elaborate plan to make me like you –”

“Do I look like Jonah?” he says, mildly insulted.  “Besides, I don’t need to _make_ you like me, you already do.”

“You wish,” Amy says, tilting her head towards him, too tired to get properly fired up.  “You have a beard.”  She sounds surprised.

“It’s just stubble,” he says, feeling oddly self-conscious.

“Yeah, but… there’s so _much_ of it, I didn’t know you were…”  Her voice trails off, and he knows what she’s thinking.

“I always shave before dates, so… you’ve probably never seen me more than twelve hours away from a razor.”

“Huh… that is surprisingly considerate actually.”

“Yeah, well, after the sixth time someone complained I was ripping her face up, I took the hint.”

“It’s not so bad once it’s grown in a little,” Amy says knowledgeably, and he would love to pursue the subject, but she adds (sleepily).  “So, Gary’s girlfriend is _crazy_.”

“Well I think that can be just assumed.”

“She’s been wearing Selina’s lipstick – isn’t that the _creepiest_ thing you ever –”

“He probably calls her Selina during sex,” Dan says, and pats himself on the back mentally when he sees Amy’s full-body cringe.

“You’re gross.”

“You know I’m right.”

“I never want to think about it.”

Predictably, they run into rush-hour traffic – a disadvantage of the fact that they’re leaving work at the time they’re (theoretically) supposed to leave work.  Dan has to concentrate on driving for a few minutes, and when he looks back… Amy’s fallen asleep.

He’s seen her sleep before of course – even if they’d never dated, the bizarre intimacy of working the midterms campaign together had ensured he’d seen Amy (and Selina and Gary and Mike) in every possible state – but it still feels weirdly private, like he shouldn’t even be looking at her.  Her face is relaxed, without its usual animation, and she looks, not young but… softer, somehow.

For all his many questionable traits, Dan is no voyeur, and he doesn’t understand why seeing her like this is making him jumpy, why the soft sounds of her breathing seem to fill up the whole car and press in on him. 

In a way, he’s kind of jealous – he’s exhausted too, but he’s too wound up, he’s going to have to go for a run, or something, before he gets any sleep, take the edge off somehow.

It’s a good half hour before they arrive at Amy’s place, and she stays asleep the entire time.  In fact, she only wakes when, after he’s parked, Dan leans over and touches her face (he should have gone for her shoulder, but sue him, he wants to feel her cheek under his hand). 

She turns her face into his palm for a moment, her eyes still closed, and sort of scrunches down in the seat, all kittenish, and when she opens her eyes, still dreaming he thinks, there’s a moment (and only a moment), when she sees him and…smiles.

But it’s gone by the time she’s properly awake.

Amy looks baffled and says, “Sorry, I didn’t, I didn’t mean to – do you need directions?”

He gestures out the window, and sees her realise that he’s brought her right to her door.  She doesn’t look entirely happy about it.  “You remember?”  Dan nods, proud of himself, and if anything… she looks creeped out.  “You only came here _once_ , that’s… how did you –”

“Mind like a steel trap,” he says, “I can’t help it.”

“Whatever,” she says, digging through her bag for her keys.  “I just assumed you deleted all unnecessary information from your hard drive once you were done.”  She’s all pink-faced and flustered and he can tell… she has no idea how kissable she is right now.  (Dan pretends not to understand why Jonah’s so in to her, but it’s always been obvious to him).

“Want me to pick you up in the morning?”

“I… I don’t know, you don’t have to –”

“I know I don’t have to – when do I ever do things because I have to?”

Amy bites her lip.  “I might have to go to the hospital first, it’s all up in the air, I don’t –”

“Well, text me when you do know.”

“Why are you being so nice?”

She’s genuinely thrown, he can tell, and someone else would be at least insulted.  “You’re not the only one who’s tired.”

“Fucking midterms,” Amy says, and then she… she just looks at him, all exhausted bafflement.  “Thank you.  I know it’s probably only a glitch in the system, but…still.”

Dan doesn’t know what to say to that (it’s not like this _means_ anything), and she starts to unclip her seatbelt, saying.  “When everyone comes to tomorrow, they’ll remember we lost the House and go apocalyptic, so –”

“Doesn’t bother me.”

“Only because it’s saved you from Furlong, but he’ll look for another way to screw you, so… rest up.”

“I’m not afraid of him,” he says, feeling smug.  “You should take your own advice.”

“Please, if I even make it to the bed it’ll be a miracle – not when the couch is right there.”

“Isn’t that usually my line?”

Amy scrunches up her face.  “Was that an innuendo?  Because if it is I don’t understand it.”

“Don’t bother,” he says.  “I’m not at my best.”

“All right – we’ll call it a draw.”  Amy picks up her bag, and he… he wants to say something to her, but… he doesn’t have even a clue what would be the right thing.  (He keeps hearing that ragged little girl voice she’d had right before Selina sent her to see her Dad, and he hates it, she should never, ever sound like that ever again, it’s all wrong).

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Amy says, and then she’s gone.  Dan shakes his head slightly as he watches her walk up to her apartment – he doesn’t know _why_ he’s in such a funk.  But something in his chest unclenches when she turns back to wave at him before closing the door.

He runs a mile and a half and showers (and eats half a pizza) before he’s come down enough to sleep.  He’s tempted to text Amy, to tell her to get off the couch and into her bed… but he doesn’t.

When he picks her up the next morning, she’s all business, back to normal.  She bitches about the likely new Speaker – a real son of a bitch apparently – the entire drive, and it’s a relief.  She doesn’t mention her Dad, and he doesn’t ask, and if she clearly has a crick in her neck from sleeping oddly… well, what does he care?  What does it matter to him?


	6. Listening is Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best part of Dan's day is messing with Amy Brookheimer. (Early season one).

Listening is Gold

Dan hates his desk in the Veep’s office.  It’s tucked away behind a corner – people can’t even tell he’s there half the time, and he’s out of Selina’s direct line of sight (not ideal, when he wants to make an impact).

But there are some unexpected benefits.

He’s hacking away at one of Mike’s press releases one evening – filibuster reform may not be immediately interesting, but there is a way to sell the story, Mike just couldn’t be bothered to find it – when he overhears a conversation that… well he’s pretty sure it wouldn’t have happened if his presence had been visible.

Amy was going over the monthly calendar with Sue, deciding which events the Veep would attend, and vetoing any meetings with the more insufferable Congressmen for the days when Selina’s daughter was visiting.  It’s one of the many boring tasks that belong to the Chief-of-Staff, and, while ultimately, that’s the job Dan wants, he’s happy to leave it to her for now.

Sue and Amy work well together, and it’s almost relaxing hearing their discussion in the background.  A serenity which is shattered, of course, when Jonah arrives.  “Presidential message incoming Amy, and you are Ground Zero.”

“What the fuck do you want?”

“POTUS, that is the President of the United States, that is _my_ boss, Amy, wants _your_ boss to attend the Women in Politics drinks on Thursday.  To demonstrate the administration’s commitment to –”

“Commitment to women in politics by sending one of the only female members of the Cabinet?  Yeah, I think the commitment will be amply demonstrated.”

But sarcasm has no impact on Jonah – you might as well try to squash a rubber ball – and he responds, “But it’s not just the VP, I’ll also be attending, as a representative of the President, and maybe afterwards you and I could get cosy in –”

If nothing else, Dan has to give him points for persistence.  Amy had adamantly refused to talk about their ‘date,’ but it was hard to imagine it going anything other than terribly (then again, maybe she’d been feeling desperate.  It happened).

“Because, what, I’ll have received a severe head injury between now and then?  No, Jonah.  You stand too close to me, and every muscle clenches in involuntary self-defence.  Every single one.”

There’s a moment’s silence, and then Jonah asks, “Is this because of Dan?”  His tone is…. He’s trying to sound insinuating (and the attempt is so pathetic, Dan almost wants to laugh).

“Is what to do with Dan?”

“Well, you two had… a thing, and now he’s working here, and –”

“And…what?  Why would that make me not want to date _you_?”

“Well, it’s just, Amy, everyone knows how he is.  And I want you to know, I would never hurt you, if you’re still not over him, I would never treat you that way.”

No one says anything and, oh, Dan wishes he could see Amy’s face (every time _he_ jokes about it, she looks like she would happily murder him).  “You’re right, Jonah, I’m _not_ over it.  I need some time to… to heal, so, I’m not really…in the market for anything right now.  But like you said, you understand.”

Her tone is kind of weird, and Jonah fumbles, embarrassed by actual feelings, as she continues.  “I’ll be in touch about the event next week, but… we have to keep doing this, so –”

Jonah must lumber his way out of the office, because a few moments later Sue says, “I didn’t know Dan had broken your heart so badly Amy.”

“No, he fucking didn’t.  I’m just letting Jonah think that so he’ll back off for five whole minutes.”

“That won’t work.”

“Please, Jonah is exactly the kind of pig who’d have more respect for me as Dan’s ‘property’ than as an actual person.  He’s that gross.  But if it means relief from him hitting on me every thirty seconds, I’ll take it.”

“Amy, really?”

“What, it might work?  And if it keeps him from raping my face again –”

“You let him kiss you?”

“No, of course not,” Amy says, and she sounds annoyed.  “Am I the only who remembers that he had to _extort_ a date from me?  I would never.  He got so drunk on election night he basically fell on me… the only thing is, he’s so _much_ taller than me, I would have to be actively cooperating for that to work, which… no.  He probably thinks that’s how _real men_ behave.  I’ll say one thing for Dan – he is almost certainly the worst human being I’ve ever met, but he wouldn’t do that.  I don’t think, anyway.”

“You would know,” Sue says, and if it was anyone else, Dan would swear she was teasing, but Sue doesn’t do that.

“No,” Amy says, “I wouldn’t.  I dated him for like a minute, it’s not as though I have some deep insight into his character.  Such as it is.”

“You sounded pretty confident.”

“Years of practice,” Amy says, and she’s laughing.  “And don’t you start on that, I already get it from my mother.”

“On what?”

“ _Dan_.  My Mom… you have to understand Sue, I love my mother, I do, but… she’s an idiot.  It took her nine years to accept that I wasn’t getting back together with my college boyfriend, and the only reason she got over that is… she got it into her head that Dan and I are ‘meant to be’.”

“He met you Mom?”

Amy made a kind of shudder noise, and then she must have taken off her shoes because she said, “Remind me again why I wear these misogynistic instruments of torture?”

“Because you’re the only person in the building shorter than Selina and you need the confidence boost?”

“Or maybe I’m just dumb.”

“Don’t change the subject.  Dan met your Mom?”

“I’m not… it’s actually kind of a funny story, or it would be if it wasn’t _him._   So the first – the only – time he took me out properly, we went to this Italian restaurant that was practically in Maryland – there was a reason, I don’t remember, he had a meeting or I had an event, or something – and we ran into my parents.  Because they go for dinner there every month, because it’s the restaurant they got engaged in.”

Dan remembers this sequence of events all too well – Amy had been mortified, there was no other word for it, and it had provided the perfect opportunity to demonstrate that he was a _really good_ _guy_ (women were so much easier to manipulate when they thought that) – but he’d never heard it from Amy’s point of view before, and so he leaned back in his seat, wanting to catch every word.

“Now, you have to understand Sue, my mother… believes in _signs_.  It’s horrifying, really – she has the vote.  So she came over ‘just to say hi,’ and then basically asked Dan to marry and impregnate me as soon as humanly possible, and I don’t think she was too fussy about the order in which those things should happen.  And, since, I didn’t know him then, I actually wanted him to like me, which…”

“Did she think she was helping?”

“Probably.  Of course, if it had been up to me, I would have saved the crazy mother for at least, oh, a year into the relationship, but –”

“Then Dan would never have met her.”

“Exactly.  Anyway, it doesn’t matter how many times I explain to her that he’s soulless bastard with more hair gel than feelings, she still believes it was ‘a sign.’   Apparently we have a ‘special spark,’ though how she worked that out in, oh, thirty seconds, I don’t know.”

“It’s probably just because he’s pretty.”

“Maybe,” Amy says (and he grins, because for once she’s admitting it).  “It’s a shame too because… well doesn’t he just know it?  He’ll probably try to date Catherine when she comes.”

“Isn’t she a little young for –”

“I don’t think Dan has those kind of scruples.  Speaking of which, I still have to sign off his security clearance form.  Oh, and cancel that meeting with State, she’s not doing the Ambassador thing any more.”

“She was looking forward to it.”

“I know,” Amy says.  “That’s probably why POTUS took it back.”

Her voice sounds distant on the final words, and when she’s finished silence falls, broken only by the tap-tap-tap of Sue’s typing.  He waits four full minutes – timing them by the clock on his computer – before standing to print his draft press release.  It’s always better to proof read in hard copy – he’s learned that through painful experience.  Besides, it’ll give him an opportunity to fuck with Amy, which… he doesn’t know how he failed to anticipate that messing with her would be the best part of his day when he took the job, but it really, really is.

It’s not that he dislikes her – at least, not in the way she dislikes _him_ – it’s that she makes it so _easy_.  And, while it’s not his preferred way to leave a beautiful woman flushed and shaking, that’s not to say he won’t take it.  Plus, the more off-balance he can make her, the more likely it is he can take her job.

(He doesn’t want her fired – he likes her too much to want her fired – but he’ll happily assist in getting her…downgraded.  Not that he’d expect such a situation to last long – as much as he might enjoy the thought of Amy working for him, of her being junior to him, of getting to give her _orders_ , Amy would _hate_ it.  She’d quit inside a week, he’s pretty sure.)

It’s all running through his mind when he leans against the door of the copy room, waiting for Amy to notice him.  She’s standing with her back to him, reviewing whatever document it was she’d just printed.  Without her heels, she looks completely out of scale beside the massive, ancient printer-copier they have to use, so tall it comes up to her ribs almost.  She tucks her hair behind one ear, saying, “For fuck’s sake, Dan,” and that’s his cue.

“Thinking about me?”

Amy jumps, crumpling the page in her hand, and turns to face him.  “I thought you’d gone home,” she said, cross with him for startling her or herself for being startled, he’s not sure which.  No reason it couldn’t be both.

“There’s always more to do.”

“I know,” Amy says, “But you don’t care about most of it, so… why are you here?”

“Polishing Mike’s turd of a press strategy, if you must know.”  He moves closer to her, and she doesn’t react, not at all, doesn’t shift away from him or push him back, and that complete blank is a as close to a deer in the headlights look as Amy ever gets.  She barely even seems to breathe as he moves his hand past her into the printer slot, his arm almost wrapped around her waist to do so, and he's uncomfortably aware of just how close her mouth is.  

He removes the printout of his press release and pulls his arm back, and Amy still hasn’t moved, though she’s staring at him with what is clearly deep, deep suspicion.  And it would be so easy right now, to pick her up and wrap her around him, toss her on top of the printer and push her skirt up and just… go to town.  (He wonders if she still tastes the same).

He waves his paper at her.  “Just because Mike can’t make filibuster reform sexy doesn’t mean it can’t be done.  Just got to find someone with the right touch.”

“And you think that’s you?”

“You know it baby,” he says, and wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis.  “I got the special spark.”

Amy flushes, ever so slightly, ever so delicately, and that’s enough for now.  She doesn’t ask if he was listening in, because she probably doesn’t want to know.  He saunters away, trying to look as casual as possible, but he’s actually… he’s slightly unnerved.

Dan flirts with women all the time – he fucks women all the time – but it’s at a time and place of _his_ choosing, there’s strategy behind it, he indulges the urge as and when it’s useful to him.  He doesn’t just up and grab the nearest woman, because he isn’t a fucking animal.

But for a second, for a second there with Amy, he’d wanted to.  Of course, he would never indulge the impulse, not unless she was, well a hell of a lot more receptive than she’d appeared, but the unexpected, _specific_ desire was rather surprising all the same.  Wanting to fuck a woman is nothing new to him – wanting to fuck a particular, individual woman _is_.  Somehow, Dan doubts he’d have had the same thought if it had been Sue he found in the copy room.

He needs to dial it way back.

He doesn’t mind pissing Amy off or fighting with her or any of that – that’s all fine – and he’d flirted with her, purposefully, ever since he'd started, to knock her off balance, but… he’s not going to be another Jonah, creeping all over her all the time.  (Of course, he could never be Jonah – he has charm and good looks and rudimentary social skills – but he doesn’t want Amy, or anyone, to make the comparison).  (The other difference, of which he is uncomfortably aware, was that Amy had liked him well enough to sleep with him, once upon a time, so unlike Jonah, he knew exactly how it would be – the salt-sweet smell of her that would linger in his bed, the way she’d clutch at him for anchor when she hit the edge, the candyfloss taste of her mouth…)

It’s not that Jonah’s methods don’t occasionally work – Dan assumes he wouldn’t persist in being such a relentless horndog if it wasn’t at least intermittently successful – it’s that they’re _pathetic_.  Dan at least knows he’s never fucked a woman who didn’t explicitly want him to fuck her, he’s made sure, and that’s a damn sight more than Jonah can say.

He controls it – it doesn’t control him – and he’s not going to break that habit just because Amy Brookheimer happens to be in his immediate vicinity.

Besides, she’s a pain in the ass at the best of times.

Such as when she’s calling his name down the corridor.  She’d walked up to him in her stocking feet and – he hadn’t realised he’d grown used to the sound of her tread in high heels until it was absent.  “Since you’re staying,” she says, “You can take the time to fill in this form right.  They need all your addresses from the last five years, not just the current one.”

“Fine,” he says, taking the form from her.  (And, normally, he’d make a joke now about her wanting to stalk him, but she’d flush up all pink and outraged, and, when Amy flushes she flushes _all over_ , he remembers, and… that is not a thought he wants to pursue right now).

“I’m serious.  I’m not going to be yelled at by that asshole in the Secret Service because of you, _again_.  I don’t get it anyway – you can’t _like_ having me babysit you every time you have to go to the West Wing.”

“But maybe you do,” he says (he can’t help it).

“No,” Amy says, and she might be about to fight him, but then Jonah’s voice comes through the walls, announcing his presence like a hand grenade.  “I’ve had enough of that for one day,” she says.  “And you know, if you wanted to hit him… I’ll be your alibi.”

“Help me hide the body?”

“Let’s not go too far.  I want that form on my desk in the morning.”

And then she’s gone, and Jonah’s face, when he sees her absence, is beautifully disappointed.  He probably only came back to their office because he wanted to see Amy again.

Up until now, Dan had found their mutual dance of incomprehension entertaining to watch.  Jonah, never having learned how to talk to a woman who wasn’t his mother, entirely failed to grasp how unappealing his lines were to a woman with an fully functional brain.  Like she’d said – he probably thought that was how real men behaved.  And Amy…

Amy was like a lot of women he’d met in DC – women who’d spent their lives trying to be valued for their brains and not their beauty (often because they thought they didn’t have much to begin with).  She still didn’t grasp that sexiness wasn’t something she had to _put on_ , like perfume or a special dress – that she didn’t have to _try_ to be attractive, she already was, all the time – that in fact, she was a desirable woman simply because she was herself.  And so Jonah’s constant pursuit baffled and confused her – she’d never once _tried_ to attract him. 

She didn’t have to.

It was surprisingly easy to sweep a woman like that off her feet, once you worked her out.  Dan knows.

Fortunately, Jonah never would.

But someone else might.

(He goes home, and he doesn’t think about it.  He definitely doesn’t think about it).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Dan first starts working with Amy he's a lot more...overt in how he approaches her than he is as the show goes on (crowding into her space constantly, blowing air kisses at her, all the pet names etc). This is my best guess as to why that changes.
> 
> Also, in 2.06, Jonah asks Amy if she's "back on the market," which is the other part I wondered about.


	7. Little Black Dress

Little Black Dress

Amy hates first dates.  Hates them.

She hated the pressure she felt to look perfect, to be sweet, to appear interested in what was often nothing more than an excuse for a man to explain at her.  Unlike some people, she didn’t have the ability to appear charmed when she wasn’t.

Which is why her first date with Ed was such a relief.  They’d known each other for a couple of years, ever since he’d taken over Selina’s PAC – he checked in with her whenever he came to Washington, and they’d spoken regularly on the phone, and the check-ins had gradually become conversations over coffee.  She liked him – he was competent, and tougher than he initially appeared, and had, on the rare occasions when she got him going, an absolutely vicious sense of humour.  So it probably wasn’t surprisingly that he’d started to send her the occasional snarky email, and that coffee had gradually morphed into going for drinks after work.

All of which meant that going on an official date with him didn’t have that unsettling ‘new’ feeling that she dreaded. 

Which didn’t mean she wouldn’t make an effort.

She’d actually hoped not to see him until she was changed – but someone had to keep the office running when Selina’s head was up in the clouds over ‘Andy,’ and Dan had been Mike levels of useless all day.  And it was Ed… she didn’t have to dress up for him, he’d found her appealing when she was running on three hours sleep and wearing a skirt with soup stains on it.

There was something incredibly relaxing about that.

Though of course, of course she couldn’t have a normal first date, that would be too easy, she had to combine it with a work event _and_ negotiations on the debt ceiling.  Really, it’d be a miracle if she managed to spend more than ten minutes with just him.  Which…was fine.  It was nothing more than she expected after two years in the job.

There had been a time – distant but she almost remembered it – when she’d gone on dates and given the man she was with her complete attention, had been able to laugh at his jokes and smile at him without working through a checklist of urgent emails in her head (none of which had meant the dates had turned out well).  But it had been a long time – longer than she liked to think – since she had dove into her rack of cocktail dresses for anything but work.

So she chose her favourite – black, with a kind of golden shimmer on it, and high-necked, but _tight_.  She’d bought it for a downright extortionate amount of money a few years ago, but it had been worth every penny – she didn’t need to wear jewellery, she didn’t need to wear make-up even, the dress showed her off to full advantage.  More than anything, she felt pretty in it. 

She’d brought the dress, as well as make-up and _high_ shoes, since Ed was so tall, in with her in the morning, and once Selina had been sent on her way, Amy grabbed her bag and ducked into the restroom.  She didn’t have much time and the light was hideously unflattering and she didn’t care.  She’s going on a date, for the first time in years, and Ed’s going to kiss her, and maybe, maybe they’ll have sex and… she can’t _wait_.  Nothing, nothing is going to ruin her night.

Except maybe Jonah.

He starts banging on the door, calling her name, as she tries to shimmy into her dress.  It’s hard enough to pull the zip up the back, without being distracted by his whatever the fuck problem… and eventually, Amy gives up, steps into her shoes, and opens the door.  (Sue will zip her up, she’s sure).

“What is it that couldn’t wait one whole minute?”

His eyes go wide the second he sees her – which, she’d take the compliment, but it’s _Jonah_ – and it takes him a moment to speak.  “I’m here with a message –”

“From POTUS, yeah, we all know,” Mike says (and she has no idea why he and Dan are both hanging around the ladies room, but whatever, it’s not her business).

“POTUS,” Jonah said, glaring at Mike as though he had some special and unique right to the word, “is very concerned about the debt ceiling negotiations.  He’s sending a delegation to Catherine’s birthday party.”

“What do you mean a delegation?” Amy said, eyes narrowed.  She was picturing Selina’s reaction, and… it wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Nine economists, a couple of guys from Treasury, oh, and Ben.”

“And where exactly do you expect them to go in the middle of a twenty-first birthday party?”

“It’s the National Gallery of Art, Dan, I’m sure there’ll be room.  Plus, beside all those nerds, the ladies are going to –”

“What?  Look at a man who can be in the presence of breasts and still complete a thought, and think, no, that’s not for me, I’d rather bring a hobgoblin home instead?”

“Don’t try to deny your feelings Amy.”

“Yeah, that’s what that is.  My overwhelming attraction to you manifesting as abuse.”  He grins, as though he doesn’t even _hear_ her sarcasm, and why, why does he have so many teeth?  Still, she’s Chief of Staff, so it’s up to her to direct these idiots.  “Mike, try to call Gary – he’s probably too excited by the thought of the ‘red thing’ to pick up, but you never know.  If she’s warned she might not lose it in public.  And Jonah, if you so much as _breathe_ in Catherine’s general direction, let alone hit on her, I will personally remove one of your kidneys.  You are not going to ruin her birthday any more than you already will by your presence.  Now fuck off, I have to finish dressing.”

“I thought we could share a –”

“No!”

She and Dan say it simultaneously – and if he were still there, Mike would doubtless have joined in – but when she looks at him, to share her exasperation with the whole situation, with Jonah being the utter worst, he won’t meet her eye.

Jonah leaves – probably hoping Sue will take pity on him (never let it be said he’s not an optimist) – and Amy has turned to go back into the bathroom, to gather her things, when Dan stops her, pressing his hands into her shoulders. 

She’s so startled – he doesn’t touch her very often, to say the least, and his hands feel heavy – that she doesn’t object as he, oh so slowly, zips her dress all the way up.  “Fixed that for you,” he says, a low murmur in her ear that causes goosebumps (of sheer loathing) to erupt all the way down her neck.

Amy turns, crossing her arms over her chest, trying to look bigger.  He’d been… _weird_ , all day, but this was something new.  “I like the dress,” he says, and she flinches.  She’s not dressing for _him_ , she doesn’t _want_ his approval.

“Don’t really care what you think.”

He smiles, but it’s not a smile that makes her feel relaxed or comfortable.  “And I _remember_ the dress.”

“Well, we’ve worked together for more than a year, and it’s my favourite, so…”

“That’s not why I remember it Amy,” he says, his voice low, and the way he’s looking at her… it’s like he’s testing her for a reaction, measuring it.

It takes her a moment, but she does eventually get it, and when she does an angry flush rises in her cheeks.  “You’re not ruining this for me,” she says, and stomps into the bathroom, pretending not to hear him call out “Guess it’s your lucky dress then,” after her. 

She’s had the thought many, many times, but never with greater sincerity.

 _Fuck_ Dan.

Trust him to find a way to make her date all about him.  He was going to be insufferable all night now, she could tell.  She feels a perverse urge to rip the dress off – and maybe set it on fire – but she won’t give him that satisfaction, she won’t let him win.

Because it was _the_ dress.  The dress she’d worn on their third date – the dress she’d selected carefully for the occasion, wanting to look her best – the dress she’d been wearing when he pulled her into his lap and they’d fucked on his couch.  (His stupid, tiny couch, because trust Dan to have a sofa that barely had room for more than him).

He’d slid the dress of her shoulders, wanting to get his mouth on her skin, and actually ripped her panties off, and… and he’d been too eager, really, pushed into her before she was completely ready (which, he had realised at least, and had made up for it later), and… and she’s not thinking about this, she’s not.  It hadn’t even been that good, not really, (although the second time, the second time was a different story).

Dan can go stick his dick in a socket.  He’s just trying to throw her off, to make her nervous before she goes to meet Ed, which… it’s _not_ going to work.

She’s determined not to think about it, not to let him ruin her night, but no matter how forcefully she shoves the thought out of her mind, it still lingers, adding to the cocktail of nerves in her stomach.  She feels fluttery and unsteady, and it’s almost a relief to think she’s going to have to spend at least part of the night working – she knows how to do that.

She meets Mike and Dan by the exit, though she tries not to look at Dan (if he even opens his mouth, she will, quite cheerfully, strangle him).  As usual Amy gets squashed between the two of them, and Dan’s leg is pressed up against hers in a way she can’t stop herself from noticing (she’d squirm away from him, but there really _isn’t_ room).

“So,” Mike says conversationally, “Ed.  He’s a long string of awkward.  Wouldn’t have figured that for your type Amer.”

“Like you’d know,” she says, aggravated.  (Mike does this, from time to time, acts like her asshole older brother, and it is always tiresome).  “Ed’s nice, it was just a weird situation for him, with you two goons staring at him.”

“You’re what was weird, right Dan?  What even was that laugh?”

“Oh, because it’s such an unprecedented event – I want him to like me, so I laugh at his jokes.  That’s a thing women do.  Or did you think they were laughing at you because you’re so witty?”

“You don’t always have to fake it,” Dan says, and his tone is lower and even sharper than usual, one of his hands clenched into a fist on his knee.  He won’t look at her, just keeps staring out the window.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

He doesn’t say anything, though Amy keeps staring at him.  She’s sick to death of his bullshit, and… she just doesn’t _get_ it.  He can’t possibly be that disappointed she won’t ‘grab a bite’ with him – Dan’s idea of heaven is a roomful of well-connected twenty year olds, and having plans with her would get in the way of hitting on all of them, so… why is he being so pissy?

“Don’t you know why?” Mike says, something gleeful in his tone.  “I do.  It’s obvious really.  Dan’s upset because –”

“Shut the fuck up, Mike,” Dan says, and he sounds so genuinely angry it throws her.  She’s never seen him really lose his cool before.

“It’s all right, man, we’ve all been there,” Mike says, still sounding inexplicably smug.  “There’s an open bar, and it will take all the pain away, I promise.”

They’re pulling up at the Gallery, and Amy doesn’t have the time or patience to deal with either of them anymore.  Andrew is lying in wait, and she’s been through that particular nightmare one too many times already. 

Dan stays with her while she surveys the scene – Mike having dived into the free food at the first opportunity.  Selina is wandering back and forth in Andrew’s line of sight, sashaying in a lamentably familiar way.  “You know,” she says absently, “our lives would be a lot easier if Selina was _normal_ , and hating a man meant she stopped wanting to fuck him.”

Dan stares at her, and something moves in his throat, but he doesn’t say anything, just clenches his jaw, because apparently he’s decided to spend the evening as a drunken mute.  Which – great – she’ll just head the many incipient crises off at the pass by herself then, and see how he likes it.

Amy dives into the crowd, looking for Selina, (or Gary, who’s easier to spot), and… when she happens to look over her shoulder, Dan’s still watching her.  And his expression… if he were anyone else, she’d say he looks bereft, like a young child who’s had his favourite toy snatched away, but it’s _Dan_ , so that isn’t possible.  He’d have to be capable of actually caring about someone, of giving a single fuck about her as a person and not as a tool to be used, to feel that kind of pain, and… Amy’s learned, the hard way (the really, really hard way), that Dan _isn’t_.

So it can’t be that.


	8. Amish Prom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missing scene from 4x09. Dan sees Amy's outfit

Amish Prom

The day after they testify before Congress, Sidney Purcell is _pissed_.  More so than usual. 

Dan is summoned to his office before he’s even had coffee, where he finds Amy, looking glum and scolded.  Sidney has clearly been haranguing her for quite some time, because when Dan sits beside her, she actually looks relieved. 

He winks at her, and tries to put on a serious face for Sidney’s benefit – it’s not like _he_ did anything wrong, Amy’s the one who got into a fight with the Committee.

But the good name of PKM (a phrase Sidney manages to say with  almost a straight face) has been put at risk, and so Sidney insists on running practice sessions with them, forcing them to recite their stories point by point, over and over.  He’s particularly vicious with Amy, accusing her of vaulting ambition and money-grubbing corruption and, while it’s entertaining to watch, Dan is at least _aware_ that it’s horribly unfair. 

How anyone could look at him and Amy and decide that _she_ was the scheming, back-stabbing, unscrupulous monster is beyond him, but that did appear to be the Committee’s conclusion.

Dan’s not going to complain about their bias, not when it benefits him, but even so… he’s smart enough to realise that he and Amy are a team, are perceived as a team, right now, and if she goes down so will he.

So when they’ve reached their third run through with Sidney, and she’s still looking in danger of losing her temper, he starts to nudge her with his knee every time she starts to lose it.  (He’d rather get his hand on her thigh and squeeze – a much more unequivocal message – but whatever he does has to be invisible to the Committee, which limits his options).

Amy jumps the first time, her voice trailing off in the middle of her answer to Sidney’s question… but she seems to get what he’s doing, because she takes a deep breath and steadies herself before continuing.

They do better in this session, and Sidney is happier with them (for a given value of happy).  He looks them up and down and calls Erica into the office.  “We need to make them look benign,” he says.  “And unified.  Ben Cafferty told everyone they were fucking, so we might as –”

“But that’s not true,” Amy says, sounding outraged, and Dan rolls his eyes at her.

“You think I care?” Sidney says, looking predatory.

“No, but _I_ care.  I don’t want people thinking I’m –”

“Darling, everyone already thinks that.  Your association is very very public.  You left the _White House_ to come work with him – you missed him so much you could barely function, and if that’s not love –”

“Please,” Amy says, “I barely even noticed he was gone.”

“Well that’s not true,” Dan says, and she glares at him, and he smirks back, and it’s so familiar, so _them_ , that his smirk almost becomes a smile.

“Either way,” Sidney says, “I don’t care.  You belong to me now children, and if that means pretending to adore each other in public for the good of the firm, well that’s what you’re going to do.”

Amy looks mutinous, and enjoying the opportunity to piss her off, Dan says, “You couldn’t resist forever – people will understand.”

“You wish,” she says, and turns back to Sidney to continue the fight, but he’s holding up a hand and ignoring her.  “Erica,” he says, “There’s nothing we can do to make him look like anything but the douchebag he is, but you can work with her, right?”

“Sure,” Erica says, and moments later Amy’s being hauled off to go shopping.  He doesn’t see her again that day, though he does get a rather curt message from her that evening saying he has to pick her up before the hearing.

Normally Amy is the driver in their little car pool – she enjoys driving more than does (though she is rather worryingly aggressive when behind the wheel of a car) – but he figures she has a reason, so he complies.  He even grabs her breakfast, and carries it up to her door – he wants her sweet before the hearings, and if buying her a coffee and an almond croissant will do the trick he’s happy to bear the expense.

He didn’t expect her to buzz him in (Amy’s always been… _skittish_ about letting him into her apartment, there’s no other word for it), but if she wants him to come in, that’s on her.  She’s left her door open, and he ends up in her living room, waiting for her to emerge.  Everything still looks the same. 

Dan works out why she wanted him to come up when she finally comes out of her bedroom.

Or rather, he starts laughing, and has to lean against the arm of her sofa to stay upright – and only works it out a full thirty seconds later, when he’s calmed down.

“Shut _up_ ,” Amy says.  “I knew you would do this.”

“What the fuck are you wearing?  You look like every Dad’s sex fantasy of a kindergarten teacher.”

“Erica bought it – Erica picked it.  She said I have to look _sweet_.”  The utter disgust in Amy’s tone is hilarious.

“Well,” he says, taking her hand in his (and she doesn’t immediately snatch it back, which may be a bad sign), “Show me how sweet you are.”

She resists his attempt to pull her into a twirl.  “I’m not your goddamn monkey, Dan.”

He looks her up and down, and then shakes his head at her reprovingly.  “You’re not supposed to be wearing heels with that outfit, are you?”

“ _Dan_ , come _on_ , don’t make me, it’s bad enough already.”

“Amy, do what Erica told you.”

She rolls her eyes, but okay.  “You know,” she says, as she enters her bedroom, “When I go to therapy for all of this, I’m sending you the bill.”

“Oh, because it’s _my_ fault now?”

“You’re the one who dragged me into the underworld,” she says, re-entering the room (and that is an extremely self-serving version of events, but he’s going to let her have it.  For now).  She’s wearing ballet slippers, flats, and looks horrendously uncomfortable.  “Happy now?”

“Oh extremely.  In fact,” he says, “I’m going to record it for –”

Amy’s on him in an instant, trying to grapple the phone out of his hand, which, really, she should know better by now – he’s a _lot_ bigger than her, and it’s all too easy for him to pull his arm back, out of her reach, and, being stronger, he pulls her with it, and suddenly… suddenly she’s too close, he could change the game entirely if he moved his hands or his mouth half an inch (and these moments have been happening more and more often lately, when he becomes suddenly, sharply aware of her, of all the space between her body and his).

He lets her take the phone, and she moves away slightly, checking it for pictures (and her cheeks are slightly pink, because Amy can’t hide anything, not from him, she’s just as affected as he is, if not more).  “It’s bad enough,” she says, “Without you making it –”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dan says, because he’s figured it out, why she’s so uncomfortable, the way she could barely look at him an obvious clue.  She shifts her stance, still not looking up, and he continues.  “Amy, people are stupid – especially men.  I hate to tell you this –”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t.  It doesn’t matter how many mannish suit jackets you wear, most people look at you and just see the doll from the top of the wedding cake.  They can’t know and appreciate that buzzsaw mind of yours the way I do.  The secret’s out, baby – you’re adorable, and everyone knows it.”

“Don’t call me that – and don’t try to be nice, it’s just…sad.”

“You shouldn’t be jealous because I’m better at it than you.”

“I hate looking fluffy – no one’s going to take me seriously.”

“I think that’s the point – how could the cute blonde in the pilgrim outfit possibly be behind these shenanigans?  And more fool them for thinking it.”

“There is another part,” Amy says.  “She got you a tie.”

She holds it out to him, and the colour matches her outfit.  Dan wants to laugh, but she’s finally looking at him properly, and he doesn’t want to spoil it.  “Want to help me put it on?”

“I’d sooner strangle you.  Besides, now that I’m not wearing heels, I couldn’t reach.  And I don’t know how to do it anyway.”

He moves to the mirror over her fireplace, switching out his original tie.  “It’s like we’re going to Amish prom.  Want to hold hands afterwards, or is asking for third base too much too soon?”

“Sometimes I really hate your guts.”

“Only sometimes?”

“Well, I have to sleep, don’t I?”

“Cute,” he says, and it’s only somewhat insincere.  “I can’t wait to see Jonah’s face – we should make sure he’s photographed standing next to you, that way he’ll look even creepier than –”

“Wait,” Amy says, and she ducks into her bathroom.  He follows her, at a more sedate pace, and finds her fiddling with a hairbrush and pins.  She’s doing something rather complicated with the hair on one side, and it’s only when she’s pinned the little braid in place that she meets his eyes in the mirror.  “If we’re going to play this up,” she says, “We might as well do it properly.”

Dan laughs – he loves it when she gets manipulative – and laughs more when he sees the pleased smile she gives him in return.

He’d accepted a while ago that he wanted to fuck her again – he’s wanted to fuck her again for a long time – but right now… he can’t wait.


	9. Three Dates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-show. Amy and Dan go on three dates.

He should have dumped Amy Brookheimer two weeks ago.

She’d texted him, saying she had an idea and they should talk – and he’d known what she wanted to talk about.  His boss was spearheading an obstruction campaign (or, making her staff spearhead it) to the President’s pick for head of the EPA, and Selina Meyer’s vote was crucial.  She had pull with the environmental lobby, she played well on television, and even after more than sixteen years in DC she could still just about keep a straight face when claiming something was ‘a matter of principle.’

The challenge was getting her on side, but Dan had his secret weapon for that.

He’d been cultivating Amy Brookheimer for a while – he’d known the moment he met her she could be a useful asset one day, and he’d ‘accidentally’ run into her in the Congressional cafeteria when she was getting her stupidly early morning coffee, and sought her out at drinks events, and generally ingratiated himself.  It wasn’t hard.

(Or, it was hard, because Amy was prickly, and often too busy to focus on him, but within a month or two she’d warmed up to him enough that she smiled whenever they met – she had a pretty smile, he thought, and she didn’t use it much).

So when his boss mentioned, seemingly offhand, that she wanted Dan to help orchestrate the opposition to Diane Minton, the proposed head of the EPA, he’d known exactly what to do.  (Being seen as the strategist behind a major Presidential defeat could only help his career).  Three hours later, he’d cornered Amy by the coffee machine and asked her out.

And she’d said yes – though with a look on her face that suggested she both didn’t quite believe him and was supressing a smile, all at once.

They’d gone out for drinks, and she… once Amy actually relaxed (which took a while, Dan was amused to note), she was smarter and funnier and sharper than he’d anticipated.  And she has absolutely no time for his self-regarding bullshit.  He likes it. 

She’s what his grandfather would call a firecracker, all wrapped up in a tiny blonde package.  Her hair kept falling around her chin, and Dan wanted to push it back, so he could see her face properly, but he restrained the impulse.

The best way to reel a woman like Amy in is to convince her to do it herself, so he approached the idea slant – commenting that it’s a pity none of the party leadership were willing to take the risk of appearing less than bipartisan, not even when an obvious incompetent like Diane Minton is about to be appointed.  His Congresswoman would love to do something about it, but it’s not like upstate New York has much credibility when it comes to environmental issues.  And if they’re just going to roll over and die on the EPA, how on earth are they going to manage a Supreme Court appointment? 

Amy’s looking at him warily by this point, so he drops the subject, and asks about her time spent working with Selina Meyer, where she went to college, her sister, and all the other irrelevant scraps of information he’s managed to pick up about her. 

He finds himself wondering what she’d look like if she ever _really_ relaxed, the stiff line of tension in her shoulders replaced by something pliant and soft – it’s hard to picture, but he suspects seeing it, seeing her all flushed and fucked out and _spent_ between his sheets would be worth it.

Still, he doesn’t try to sleep with her that first night.  He (probably) could have (he thinks), but she’s a long term project, and he doesn’t want to fuck it up by being too hasty.  He even waits until _she’s_ kissed him first, on the cheek, before taking her mouth for his own.  It’s a nice kiss, to begin with, the kind he usually doesn’t bother with – but when he opens his mouth, just a little, Amy accepts the invitation, pulling him closer with her fierce little hands and sliding her tongue against his, teasing him out, and now _she’s_ the one doing the taking…

When they part, he’s breathing heavily, and Amy… Amy looks adorably smug.  He is so glad – so very glad – that he’s getting the opportunity to sleep with her at long last.  (He had definitely underestimated just how enjoyable it would be).

Dan tells her he’ll see her again in an appropriately stunned sounding voice, escorts her to her cab (he’s being a gentleman after all), and spends the rest of the week trying to come up with a way to launch a coup d’état against the party leadership. 

It’s harder than he expected to find a workable strategy, and that must be why his heart lights up a little when she texts him that Saturday, saying she has a plan and can he pick her up?  He’d been lying in bed, mindlessly clicking back and forth between Wonkette and the Washington Post all morning, so he’s more than happy to cooperate.

Plus, when he collects her from her parent’s house (her mother waves at him from the window), she’s wearing a light green sundress that makes it more than worth the effort.  He’s never seen her in casual clothes before.  (Amy catches his many, many glances at it, and finally says, “It’s my niece’s birthday party,” her cheeks faintly pink).  (She’s right to blush – he can’t keep his eyes off all the smooth curves newly on display, all the creamy skin she keeps covered up with skirt suits and an abrasive attitude.  His thoughts take an increasingly filthy direction the more he looks – he wants to _ruin_ her).

They get coffees and walk through the park until they can find a private patch of grass to sit on, and Amy talks him through her plan to destroy Diane Minton (and he keeps stroking the bare skin of her arm and shoulder, because that way he doesn’t kiss her and break her flow).  His subtle hint worked – Amy had gone away and dug up Diane Minton’s variously nutty writings (which indicated a lack of belief in climate change, the ozone layer, and the Centigrade system).  She’d also found out that Minton had been instrumental in preventing hurricane relief from being sent to South Carolina after the last storm – particularly relevant, as the junior Senator from South Carolina was the ranking minority member of the Committee.

“There’s more than enough here to show that she’s unfit for the post,” Amy says, after showing him one of the more insane articles.  “The problem is… Selina can’t – well won’t, but can’t, I heard the argument – bring them up herself.  But if they were to get out some other way… well then she’d have to mention them.”

Dan grins at her coy tone, the fingers of his right hand tightening around her knee.  “Don’t worry about that,” he says, “I know what to do about that.  But in the meantime…” He lets his voice trail off suggestively, as his hand slides further up her leg.

She kisses him when he presses his lips to hers, but she’s less than fully responsive, and after a moment he pulls back.  “What’s up?  Don’t you want –”

“It’s not that,” Amy says, laying her hand over his, stopping its upward journey, “It’s not a good time.”

Her eyelashes flutter – because she doesn’t want to meet his eyes – and Dan kisses her again (she’s too cute, he can’t _not_ ).  “Whatever your clever code is,” he says against her mouth, “I’m not getting it.  But my apartment is only a short drive away, if you’re worried I mean right here, right now.”

“Dan, it’s just… not a good time,” she says, and this time he gets it, what she’s trying to say, why she’s flushed red (embarrassed, and furious with herself for _being_ embarrassed, he thinks).  “Please don’t freak out.”

(Which, okay, like most adult men, Dan doesn’t particularly _like_ thinking about menstruation if he can possibly avoid it.  But he has older sisters, and has worked with women for most of his professional life, so he also knows enough not to show his distaste for the subject).  (He wonders what kind of shitty boyfriends she’s had, if she’s genuinely worried that this revelation will be some kind of dealbreaker, will kill his attraction to her).

“Right,” he says, turning the word into two syllables.  “No reason we can’t make out though.”

And suddenly he has his arms full of Amy – soft and laughing and smiling at him like he’s an actual good guy.

It’s almost dark when they leave the park, and Amy has grass stains on her dress, and a hickey rising on her neck.  They get take-out and eat in her apartment, and she makes him laugh, and it’s one a.m. by the time he leaves, and he doesn’t dump her that day (though he really should have) (she’d fixed his strategy problem, he didn’t absolutely _need_ her any more).

* * *

 

 

He should have dumped Amy Brookheimer a week ago.

The appointment hearings had gone terribly, thanks to Wonkette’s ‘discovery’ of Diane Minton’s past ramblings, an editorial in the Union Times opposing her appointment on the grounds of her abuse of the great state of South Carolina, and Selina Meyer’s surgical questioning of her, as Chair of the Committee.  In the end, the appointment had been rejected, and Senator Doyle had held drinks to celebrate, to which both Dan and Amy (and their bosses) were invited.  The President had been made to look (even more) a fool, so Dan ignores Amy and circulates, accepting praise and business cards in equal measure.  He even gets a whole six minutes with the Ohio Congresswoman he’s been courting for the last month, time well-spent as far as he’s concerned.

Amy watches him from across the room, and it… it makes him the opposite of nervous.  He grins wider – talks more – he wants her to see him being brilliant and witty and impressing the entire room.  She must know what he’s doing, because her expression… it’s at once faintly mocking, and he thinks, turned on.

After almost an hour, she brushes past him on her way out of the room, her glance carefully not significant, and Dan manages to wait at least forty-five seconds before following her.  When he does however, he’s pulled into a storage closet with gratifying speed – though Amy’s expression isn’t precisely welcoming.

“You’re an ass,” she says, raising her chin at him, and just… _bristling_ with indignation.

“Guilty as charged, but was there anything specific?” He pulls her closer as he speaks, and she comes, though she still looks mulish.

“How long were you going to wait to come talk to me?”

“Oh,” he says, sliding his hands down to cup her ass, “At least another five minutes.  I wanted you to be really _mad_.”

Amy punches him in the arm, but when he bends to kiss her, she’s more than eager, stretching up to reach his mouth, so he knows it’s an act.  She fists her hands in his collar, dragging him closer, and Dan can’t help himself, he laughs.  “Are you trying to _climb_ me?”

“Shut up.  You’re too big.”

“Thanks, that’s what I like to hear.”

“I meant –”

“I know what you meant.  Besides,” he pinches her cheek, “I didn’t say I don’t like it.  You’ve gone feral.”

“We don’t match at all,” she says, sounding regretful.  “I need to shrink you.”

“I don’t know,” Dan says, cupping her breast with one hand.  “Seems there are some places I fit you just right.”

“What are you, the big bad wolf now?”

“What do you think?”

Amy didn’t answer, but she did let him kiss her again, not even complaining when he turned them, pushing her back against the door.  She did let out a little squeak when he, having got his hands on the back of her thighs, lifts her, pinning her to the door with his hips – but it seemed nothing more than surprise, because she didn’t stop kissing him.

It was only when he moved his mouth to her neck (eliciting a small moan when he touched his tongue to her skin) that she spoke.  “I don’t normally do this.”

“Do what?”  He couldn’t keep it from sounding like a taunt.

“Sneak away from work events to – Selina’s going to _kill_ me, she hates Doyle.”

(Interesting, he thinks, but doesn’t say, filing that little fact away for future reference).  “So you want it that badly, do you?” he says, thrusting himself against her for emphasis.

Amy looks outraged, and starts to deny it, so he bites down on her neck, just a little.  “Tell the truth now.”

“Oh what big teeth you have,” she says, and he bursts out laughing (which is bad – he almost drops her).  Amy snorts a little, her nose crinkling up, and he thinks about just taking her home right now.

And then he hears his boss calling him – they’re supposed to meet those assholes from Justice (including Nicola Mortlock, who he’s been cultivating for a while, and who Amy, politely, can’t stand).  He really doesn’t _want_ to go – and he really has to go – so he sets Amy carefully back on her feet.  “Sorry,” he says, “But she’s not going to let me –”

“You have a thing.  I understand.”

“How do I look?”

“Right this second?  You have sex eyes – and you need to wipe the lipstick off.  But otherwise, you’re good.”

“Okay,” he says, and this feels so incomplete.  “Okay, I should – I’ll call you?”

“Okay,” Amy says, and for the first time since he’s known her, he can actually _see_ that she’s nervous (he’s had suspicions in the past, but now he _knows_ ).  She takes his face in her hands and kisses him very gently.  “And so we’re clear,” she says, and kisses him again, lingering this time.  “The answer’s yes.”

She’s evil – pure evil – for saying that to him when he has to leave, and Dan loves it.  It’s all he can think of as he goes to the men’s room to clean his face (and hopefully think down his raging hard-on).

He escorts his boss to the event at Justice, and flirts with Nicola Mortlock, and he doesn’t dump Amy that night.  (Though he really should.  The confirmation hearings have failed, and she’s of no further use to him).

He types up the text message, and all but sends it – and then, on some mad impulse, changes his mind, and asks her to go for dinner that Saturday instead. 

He lies back on the bed, waiting for her response. 

It’s probably just that he hasn’t fucked her yet.

* * *

 

 

It’s been almost a month, and he still hasn’t dumped her.  (He did go out for drinks with Nicola, but he made sure to keep it very quiet).

Partly, it’s timing.  His boss had sprung a (in Dan’s opinion completely unnecessary) surprise trip to Albany on him, and since he was in the area, he’d been forced to show his face at a family dinner for his sister’s birthday, and couldn’t get back to DC in time.  Amy had accepted his excuses with good grace, though she didn’t _seem_ the kind of woman who was impressed by family values.

He ran into her the next Tuesday in the coffee shop, and suggested they go that weekend – he could have just postponed the entire thing, let it fade out like so many DC relationships did, he thought about doing so, but then Amy leaned up to whisper something bitchy in his ear, and… he’d felt the tension of all the things they hadn’t done yet, crackling between their bodies, and so he hadn’t.

Instead, he’d tugged on her hair and offered to pick her up from her boss’ fundraising event that Saturday (and why Selina Meyer is raising money four years ahead of her next election is an interesting puzzle).  They both have diaries just this side of insane, so his willingness to drive more than an hour out of his way to spend time with her impresses Amy exactly as much as  it should.

Amy looked at him like she wanted to kiss him again – her body almost vibrating with indecision – and then her phone rang, ending her dilemma.  She pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth, a kiss so quick he hardly felt it, and then she was off, barking down the phone at Mike, whoever he was, who had incurred her displeasure.  (As she walks away, berating this hapless individual, Dan admires the view and thinks it’s the hottest she’s ever been to him).

When he picks her up that Saturday she looks amazing – and not at all like someone who’s been schmoozing donors all day (an exhausting business even at the best of times).  Dan takes in her sparkly black dress and high heels and feels more than usually smug.

She’d dressed up for him – she wanted to look her best for _him_.  It’s completely unnecessary of course – she could have shown up in sweats and a tank top and he’d still be planning to fuck her – but there’s something cute about it all the same ( _she’s_ cute all the same).

He’d found a local Italian restaurant with not terrible reviews and booked a table – a measure he realises was completely unnecessary when they arrive.  It’s an absolutely local joint, a real Mom-and-Pop place, and between his suit and Amy’s slinky little dress, they stick out, more than a little.

Dan doesn’t care.  It’s not like anyone from DC is likely to see them so far out in Maryland, and even if they did, so what?  (Nicola might dump him, but… it would probably be worth it).

When they sit down, Amy grins at him from across the table, and he can’t help it, he’s lost.  She's always been gorgeous, but in this setting, the candlelight making her hair shine and her eyes glow, she’s downright exquisite.  She doesn't even look like she belongs in the same room as everyone else in the restaurant, and Dan stretches out and takes her hand, wanting everyone there to know that she's his, that this luminous creature belongs to him.

She tangles her fingers with his, teasing his palm with her thumb, and it's the most PG version of foreplay he's ever experienced, and he doesn't care. It's a wrench when their food comes and he has to stop touching her, but it doesn't stop them from talking.

It's a sad fact of life that the vast majority of people bore Dan to death.  It's not just that they insist on gabbling on about their families, or their deep-seated love for their brain-dead constituents, or, worst of all, their devotion to some point of principle that they were only reminded they're supposed to care about five minutes ago, it's that most can't even begin to keep up.

Dan has no objection to sincerely held convictions – or he wouldn't, if he ever met someone who had any - but he has no patience (or sympathy) for people who do things because that's just how things are done. As though they don't grasp that everything they do is a choice, that they can behave any way they want to, if they're brave enough.

But Amy – Amy gets it, he thinks - she sees through the layers of bullshit people put up to justify doing what they already want to do.  She hasn't seen through him yet, but that's okay – he is very good at seeming, and he actually likes her, so it's not even like he's really pretending.

He could talk to her all night.

He's not going to – not when there are other options on offer – but he could.  And there aren't many people Dan can say that about.

They're waiting for dessert (Amy had demurred at first, but agreed to share his tartuffo when pressed) (Dan didn't realise the significance of this until years later – he didn't know yet that Amy could be _weird_ about food) when _it_ happened.  It being the moment that would make or break his 'relationship' with Amy, if it was an actual, real thing.

Amy had taken his hand again, intertwining their fingers over and over, and it feels almost too intimate, the way her small hand curls into his, like they shouldn’t be doing this in public.  That’s when he hears a voice calling her name, and a moment later, Amy is engulfed by an older, blonder woman, who hugs her and scolds her for being too busy to call, and she can only be Amy’s mother.

His deduction is confirmed when she turns around and holds out her hand, saying, “And you must be Dan?”

“So she’s told you about me,” Dan says, winking at Amy, who immediately goes pink.

“All good things, I promise.”

“Oh, that’s just because she doesn’t know the bad ones yet,” he says, laughing a little inside (because it’s true).

“But what are you doing all the way out here?”

Amy rushes into an explanation, and Dan can see her mother isn’t really listening, too pleased with her brilliant, beautiful daughter to care about the specifics (and Amy, of course, doesn’t realise this, doesn’t grasp that her mother is simply _overflowing_ with pride).  She smiles significantly at Amy, and says, “You know this is restaurant where Amy’s Dad proposed.”

Amy’s face is now so red he’s surprised steam isn’t coming out of her ears.  “That’s really nice, Mom, but –”

“And since we got married, we’ve come here almost every month.”

“That’s _this_ restaurant?” Amy says, looking around her with some (poorly hidden) distaste.

“Oh yes,” her Mom says, looking misty.  “Of course, it was a slightly wilder place back then.  Why I think we made… well I found out I was pregnant with Sophie not long after our third –”

“Okay Mom,” Amy says, and she’s so horrified, it’s genuinely funny.

“I’m just saying sweetheart – you never know what could happen.”  And Amy’s Mom winks at Dan, like he’s on the joke, seeming to miss Amy’s expression of flat horror.  “I’ll leave you two to it, but I hope we’ll see you again soon Dan.”

As soon as she’s left their table, Amy puts her head in her hands, and won’t look at him.  “So,” Dan says, and he can’t help it, he’s grinning like a true bastard.  “I like your Mom.”

“Shut up.”

“Really, I do.  Do you think I’ll make a good son-in-law?”

“Oh my _god_ , stop, it’s bad enough already.”

Dan laughs and reaches out to pry her hands away from her face.  “Come on, I want to look at you.”

“And I think I never want to see your face again.”

“We both know that’s not true,” he says, and kisses her fingers.

“I swear,” Amy says, “I had no _idea_ it was this restaurant, none, I wouldn’t –”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, and oddly enough, he means it.  “If it was my Mom, we’d have been subjected to a ten minute monologue on how beautiful you are and why haven’t I married you yet?”

Amy tries, heroically, not to react to him calling her beautiful, and soldiers on, asking, “Are you close with her?”

The dessert arrives, and Dan takes a spoonful and feeds it to her, before answering, “Not exactly.”  He watches the movement of her throat as she swallows.  “We don’t have a lot in common.  Your Mom would love her.”

Amy shudders.  “Let’s make sure they never meet.”

“I don’t know – I think I want to see just how red your face can get.”

“There are better ways, I promise.”

Dan grins at her, and she smiles a little smile back.  It’s funny how, in all the months he spent trying to get her to chat to him in the line for early morning coffee or by the free bars, he’d never quite grasped that she was shy, but it’s so obvious now, he wants to slap himself for missing it.  He’d just never seen her loosen up before.

They finish the dessert, and when the waiter offers coffee, Amy shakes her head, just a little, so Dan gets the bill – carefully _not_ smirking at her.  Women tend not to like that.

He drives them back to DC – at this time of the evening, it’s a quick drive – and Amy is surprisingly quiet throughout.  He wonders if she’s nervous, but when he suggests a nightcap, her response is immediate and positive, so maybe not (and maybe a drink will help with that).

He walks her up to his door with a hand on her back, and takes her coat from her shoulders – he’s being a gentleman now, because he knows he won’t be later.  Amy’s giving him this look, like she’s expecting him to pounce (and she’s practically vibrating with nervous energy, so maybe she’s into that), so he goes into the kitchen and pours them both a measure of whiskey. 

She needs – or rather _he_ needs her – to relax first.

By the time he’s back, Amy’s browsing his bookshelves, and he sits on the sofa and watches her do it.  “We have a lot of the same books,” she says, taking a sip of her drink (and her voice is steadier now, which is good).

“Is that a good sign?”

She steps out of her heels – and she really _is_ tiny, he’s never seen her without them before – and comes to sit beside him.  “Put it this way – if you were just a beautiful illiterate, I wouldn’t still be here.”

“Thank,” Dan says, smiling to himself.  “I’ve been looking for a woman who will love me for my mind.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s really hard for you,” Amy says, and bless her for treating his comment with all the cynicism it deserves.

“Brains and beauty, Amy, it’s a very intimidating package.”

She gives him an ‘Are you fucking serious?’ look, and Dan laughs out loud.  “Sorry,” he says, “I should have let you finish your drink before trying that one on you.”

“Or you could just not.”

“You shouldn’t sound so doubtful.  I’ve been hurt before.”

She snorts a little.  “I find that highly unlikely.”  She’s so on to him – she doesn’t know it yet, but she is – and he loves it.  “And why the hell is your couch so small?”

“Oh, sweet, innocent Amy, can’t you guess?”  He moves closer to her, sliding his arm over her shoulders, and nudging her knee with his, at which she makes a face.  “It’s because whoever sits on it with me has to be, well, right on top of me.”

“That’s a lot of strategy to put into a furniture purchase,” she says, taking his hand and playing with his fingers again.

“Mind like a machine.  I can’t help it.  You have a thing for my hands, don’t you?”

Amy bites her lip, and looks down at her lap before saying, “Well, they’re nice hands.”

“All the better to grope you with,” he says, surprising a laugh out of her.  She meets his eyes for a moment, and then sets her drink down on the table, before leaning back against the armrest and giving him a ‘well what are you waiting for’ look.

And Dan – Dan doesn’t need to be told twice – he leans over her and kisses her, more forcefully than ever before, and he gets his hand round her to pull down the zip of her dress while he does it, and Amy’s got her hands in his hair and her tongue in his mouth, and he… he yanks her hips sharply against his, pulling her so she’s almost lying down under him, thrusting himself against her hard (and, she’s right, his sofa really is too fucking small for this, but he’d rather fold himself in half than waste his time getting them to another location).  As he kisses down her neck, Amy moans, just a little, and he pushes the neckline of her dress down to kiss her collarbone, the tops of her breasts, the line of her cleavage.   Everything is tight, and awkward, and he’s rucking her skirt up around her hips, and Amy can’t really help him (though she tries), she’s got no room for manoeuvre, and she keeps dragging his mouth back up to hers, but she’s too breathless to kiss him properly, distracted by his fingers sliding along her slick folds and then inside her.  He loses patience finally, and actually _rips_ her panties off.  Amy’s blue eyes go wide with shock, and Dan thinks she’s about to laugh, but he thrusts into her, and all that comes out is a gasp.  Her whole body seems to jolt with it, and she bites her lip as Dan starts to rock his hips further into her.

He tries to move them, to lift her legs more properly around him, to get a better angle – but it’s difficult.  There’s no room, and he has to prop himself up with at least one arm (she’s so little, he doesn’t want to crush her), and being inside Amy Brookheimer feels so fucking good, so much better than it’s ever felt, it’s all he can do not to lose his head completely…

When he comes, it’s a hell of a lot sooner than he’d like, and he doesn’t have to look at Amy’s face to know she didn’t even come close to getting off.  It’s embarrassing – he hasn’t been this bad at sex since he was a teenager – and yeah, he’s going to dump her (soon), but… he doesn’t want her to be _glad_.

He wants to hide his face in her neck until he’s mastered his embarrassment, but eventually Amy (perhaps tired of him being on top of her, and who could blame her?) lifts his head up, her hands framing his face.  “You okay?”

Her gaze is cool and her voice is steady, and that just pisses him off more – he’d wanted her to come so hard she couldn’t even _speak_ , and instead he’s treated her like a replacement for his right hand.  “Oh, I’m just dandy,” he says, and his tone makes Amy flinch, which is even more wrong (he’s pissed with himself, not with her).  “Sorry about that, I know it wasn’t –”

“Don’t worry about it.  First times are always... awkward.”

“Is that supposed to reassure me?  Because your low expectations are insulting, Ame.”

“I didn’t _have_ low expectations, I thought you’d –”  Amy cuts herself off, obviously thinking that whatever she was about to say wouldn’t help her aim of making him feel better.

“You thought I knew what I was doing?”

“Yes,” Amy says, slowly, and he sighs, frustrated with himself in every possible way.  “Look,” she continues, “If it bothers you so much, you know what to do.  Get down there and make it up to me.”

She looks amazed at herself for even having said it, and Dan kisses her startled mouth.  “You’re right,” he says and stands, pulling her up with him.

“I’m always right, but was there something –”

“I need a bigger couch.”

He takes Amy’s hand, and pulls her into his bedroom, and spends the next hour doing everything he can think of to reduce her to incoherence. 

He doesn’t dump her that night either.

* * *

 

 

Dan wakes up earlier than he’d expected, and Amy is still asleep, her usually neatly done hair swirling out over his pillow, and one naked shoulder peeking tantalisingly out from under the sheets.  She’s too cute, and he snaps a picture of her on his phone. 

(It only strikes him, years later, that this may have been a slightly creepy thing to do, when Amy sees that it’s he's made it her profile picture, so it shows every time she calls him, and gives him a look of ‘what the fuck is wrong with you?’  He doesn’t delete the picture, but he does make sure no one else ever sees it again – he can see why it weirded her out.  She would never believe him if he told her he’d kept the photo (or rather, never bothered to delete the photo) because it was cute (she was cute), and not to embarrass her with proof that she’d fucked him, once upon a time).

He showers, trying his best to be quiet and to remember if he has any actual food in his fridge (he’s almost certain he doesn’t).  He doesn’t usually make women breakfast, but he kind of feels like he owes her. 

When he gets back to his room, Amy has that too perfect stillness of someone feigning sleep, so he sits down on her side of the bed.  “Morning, sleeping beauty.”

She groans, and turns her face further into the pillow.  “You got me.  I figured if I pretended to be asleep, you wouldn’t kick me out too early in the morning.”

“Oh Amy,” he says, bending so his face was right by hers, “You underestimate just how much of a bastard I really am.”

He kisses her, and it’s a long, filthy kiss, her tongue touching his, slick and velvety, fast then slow, then fast again.  They break for air after he’s not sure how long, and Dan rests his forehead against hers.

“You brushed your teeth,” she says, startled.

“You like that, do you?  Pity I didn’t think of it last night.”

“Now you’re just being _mean_.”

“Well, it’s morning, I’m in a good mood.”

“I noticed,” Amy says, glancing downwards, and Dan snorts. 

“Careful beautiful – I might get the idea you like it.”  Amy blushes up to her hairline, and Dan grins, taking the opportunity to lie more completely on top of her. 

“You’re ridiculous,” she says, but there’s a smile in her voice all the same. 

Dan kisses her shoulder, and then across her collarbone, and down into the valley between her breasts.  “You don’t like that, baby?”

“What the fuck did you just call me?”

“Sweetheart, it’s nothing to get upset by – it’s not like I called you lovemuffin.  Or pumpkin, or honey, or –”

Amy’s face has been growing more and more outraged, and finally she pushes him over, into the middle of the bed, and straddles him.  “Stop it,” she says, holding his arms above his head.

“I’ll call you beautiful any time I feel like it.”

Her face softens then, but she rolls her eyes.  “If I’d known you were a goddamn weirdo –”

“You’d still have slept with me – we both know that – it was always going to happen.”

She’s trying to look annoyed with him, but the minute shift of her hips against his gives her away, and Dan’s not surprised when, a moment later, she bends to kiss him, letting go of his hands as she does so.

He tells himself sternly to let her set the pace – he doesn’t want a repeat of the previous evening’s debacle – but it’s difficult.  He _wants_ to touch her, it’s hard _not_ to touch her, and he audibly groans with relief when Amy puts his hands on her body.  “Don’t make me do all the work,” she says, and he obeys her more than willingly, his fingers rushing to explore her skin.

If he’d thought fucking Amy felt good _before_ , it’s nothing to how it feels when she’s in charge, completely wet and ready for him, and moaning out loud because he feels so good inside her, and clenching around his cock, and clutching at his hands as she comes, and collapsing onto him all soft and boneless when it’s over.

It takes him long moments to recover, and when he finally moves beneath her, Amy lets out a little involuntary whine, and shifts herself closer, tucking her head under his chin.  “Not yet,” she says, and when he looks at her face, she’s fucking _glowing_.

So he lets her cuddle up to him, and he strokes her skin, and he drifts almost, completely losing track of time.  It’s Amy, really, who awakes from the afterglow first.

“Mind if I use your shower?”

“Yes,” Dan says.  “I like the idea of you walking around all day smelling of me.”

“That’s just…gross,” Amy says, recoiling slightly.

“And yet, you’re kind of into it, aren’t you?”

“How about a compromise?  I’ll use your shower gel.” 

Dan laughs, and gestures towards the bathroom, and she kisses him (once – twice – six times) before she goes.  While she’s gone, he tries to breathe steadily, and put his thoughts in order.  He’s supposed to see Nicola tomorrow night – they’re going to a reception at Justice Baker’s house, it will be extremely public, and he has to dump Amy before then. 

But he doesn’t want to.

He’ll dump her eventually, of course, but… he can’t want her to leave just yet – she’s too much fun, too goddamn cute when she smiles at him, he wants more of it, more of her. 

He could string it out for a while longer, he thinks, but what would be the point?  Sure he’d get to fuck her a few more times (and completely erase her memory of his clumsy first attempt), but primary season is coming up, and he needs to be a free agent.  And sure, Amy is smart, and funny, and gorgeous, and he finds her shyness, the sweetness underneath that she tries to cover so desperately, kind of weirdly endearing, but none of those things are of actual _value_. 

He can find a dozen Amys any time he wants – and most of them aren’t so uptight they’ll take months of coaxing before they’ll even date him.  Most of them will have a better rack, and be tall enough that he doesn’t have to bend in half to kiss them, and they won’t have an eerie ability to detect his bullshit before he wants them to.

He dresses quickly, and makes the bed – he needs to get Amy out of his flat so he can get himself back to normal.  He’s got political gossip to catch-up on, and he needs to go the gym, and prep his clothes for the next week, and the last thing he needs is some needy girlfriend type taking up his time and energy.

He sits on the bed, legs jiggling nervously, and he’s ready to escort her to the door, and send her on her way… and then she comes back into the room.  She’s wearing a different dress, and her hair falls in damp waves around her shoulders, and… she’s smiling at him.  (Her whole face lights up when she smiles).

And it’s not what he intended, and not what he planned, and Dan holds his hands out to her all the same.  “I like the dress,” he says, pulling her closer so she’s standing between his knees. 

“It’s just work clothes – I couldn’t wear a cocktail dress to a church fundraiser.”

“So that’s your excuse.  You planned this, didn’t you?”

“Dan, if I’d planned this, I would have brought spare panties.”

“Sorry,” he says, and he can tell from Amy’s eyes that she knows he’s not sorry at all.  (Though the way he’d been running his hands over her ass and tits, it’s not like it was hard to deduce).

“Just don’t make a habit of it – they’re expensive.”

“Noted,” he says, and he gets his hand on the back of her neck, and pulls her down into a kiss, pressing his tongue into her mouth, and biting her lips, and she’s so _responsive_ , it’s incredible.  He can actually feel her trembling against him, and if nothing else… she’s great for his ego.  (Nicola can’t kiss at all, not compared to this).  (He doesn’t know it yet, but, while he’ll fuck women who are more confident than Amy, more sexually aggressive than Amy, he’ll never meet a woman who kisses him the way she does).  (He never tells her this).

Dan thinks about pulling her into his lap – tumbling them both back onto the bed – but, while it would be a more than pleasant way of spending the rest of the day, there’s no point in prolonging things unnecessarily. 

He pulls back, and looks at her steadily, and he can see Amy realise something’s up with him.  A hint of uncertainty creeps into her eyes, and she starts to pull away.  “I should really go,” she says, “I’ve got a ton of research to do for Selina, she’s desperate to beef up on foreign policy and climate change and everything these days.”

“Okay,” he says, and… and he doesn’t want her to go, not yet (he doesn’t want to send the text message he knows he has to send, not yet).  “But let’s go for breakfast first.”

“All right,” she says, and she’s all smiles again, and this was definitely a better idea.

They walk to the hipster brunch place a few blocks over, and it’s packed, as always, and the waiters are speeding through the place with trays and trays of pancakes and eggs.  Amy gets knocked into him by them at least three times before she gives up the fight, and just leans back against his chest, making herself as small an obstruction as possible.  (It makes him feel strong).

It takes twenty minutes, but they eventually get seats, side by side, at one of the long tables.  It makes conversation a little awkward, but actually Dan prefers it – he can touch her this way (and he can’t seem to  _stop_ touching her).  They study the menu, and when the waitress comes, Amy says “Fuck it,” and orders waffles with strawberries and a side of bacon.  (Another moment he will remember in years to come, after seeing her order depressing egg white omelette after depressing egg white omelette).  Dan looks at her quizzically, after they’ve both ordered, and she shrugs.  “I’m hungry.”

“Oh really?”  He’s grinning, and leans closer to her.  “Wore you out, did I?”

“Shut up.”

He slides his arm around her, letting his hand rest on her ass, and kisses her on the lips, again and again and again, light, caressing kisses, nothing unsuitable for public consumption.  Amy’s face, when he finally stops, is… is… she’s goddamn _radiant_ is what she is, she’s shining at him (because of him), and jesus, he’s going to miss having her look at him like that.  (He feels like a fucking King).

“We’re being insufferable,” she says, shaking her head at him.

“Maybe,” Dan leans closer, speaking conspiratorially, “But that’s only because I know you’re not wearing any underwear.”  Amy slaps his arm, and he continues, “Which… if I remember rightly, this place does have a disabled toilet, so if you want to go again…”

She looks cartoonishly disgusted.  “Dan, I am not having sex with you in a restaurant toilet.  Ever.  You don’t know what else has happened in there.”

He holds his hands up defensively.  “Fair enough.  Got to know each other’s hard and soft boundaries.”

“You’re an ass.”

“Yeah.”

“And you probably don’t even have the stamina.”

“Now you’re just being mean.”

They banter back and forth, and it’s… it’s fun.  (Dan doesn’t usually have _fun_ on dates – they’re more like intellectual exercises in the fastest route from point A to point D).  When their food arrives, they both practically fall on it – he all but inhales his eggs, and then amuses himself by stealing strawberries off Amy’s plate (more challenging than you might think, given how vicious she can be with a fork).

“Dan Egan!” 

They’re interrupted by Greg Malone, a junior White House staffer (and a complete and charmless prick).  He and Dan had got drunk together one day, when they were both in working in the House – other than a complete indifference to little matters like party loyalty, they didn’t have much in common, but after a bad day on the Hill, sometimes that was enough.  Greg was utterly detestable, but that was no reason not to keep him as a contact, and so he and Dan were… friendly enemies.

“And Amy Brookheimer, I see.  Now it all makes sense.  This is how you fucked up the Minton appointment.”

“It was a difficult job, but someone’s got to do it,” Dan says, hoping Greg will move the fuck on. 

"Yeah," Greg says, leering at Amy, "I'm sure you really suffered in pursuit of your goal."

Dan laughs, though actually he kind of really wants to punch Greg right now. “No hard feelings?”

“Not at all.  But tell your boss, good luck getting any judges appointed in the near future.”  (Well, that wasn’t a shock, he’d been expecting it as retaliation – that’s why he was cultivating Nicola).

Greg walks onto his table, and Dan turns back to look at Amy, and… and all the light that was in her face, all the sparkle that had been gleaming at him… it’s just _gone_.  She’s pressing her lips together firmly (too firmly, like something might escape if she let go), and… well fuck.  This is why he breaks up with women using text messages.

Contrary to what some people think, Dan doesn’t particularly _enjoy_ seeing people in pain – with a few noteworthy exceptions.  It’s not that it bothers him especially – he’d learned that when he killed the dog.  Hurting something didn’t make him feel anything except vague distaste.  He’d heard of people who got a thrill, who enjoyed the feeling of power violence gave them, but whatever internal spring was needed for that rush, he didn’t have it – all you got at the end was a dead dog, or a bruised woman, or an injured child, and it was stupidly wasteful.  It wasn’t worth the time or the effort. 

But watching Amy try her hardest not to look devastated, to shove all her feelings down inside, there was a thrill to that.  She must really like him – she must damn near love him – to have to work so very hard to hold it all in.

The moment the bill is paid, Amy shoots out of her seat, saying in a rushed tone, “I have to go.”

And he should let her – he should let her leave (he knows she’s never going to call him again), but somehow he can’t, so he follows her.  “Why the hurry?” he says, in as obnoxious a tone as he can manage.

“You know exactly why,” she says, and her voice is shaking.

“Oh, you mean the way I dated you just to fuck up the EPA appointment, so I could be the strategist who defeated the White House?”  He’s watching her, watching all the little tells that will give her away (and he _knows_ her tells now, the way he didn’t a month before).  “It’s DC, Amy, do you think anyone here ever dates for any other reason?”

“Obviously not.”  Amy laughs, a little, and it’s the ugliest sound he’s ever heard her make.  (Dan thinks back to that laugh, sometimes, when he knows her better – she had to be really close to breaking down to laugh like that.  No one laughs that way when crying is an option).  (He doesn’t _ever_ want to hear her laugh like that again).

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re cute and all, but… not really my type.  I usually go for brunettes, tall ones.”

Amy flinches at that comment, and shakes her head.  “I have to go.”

“Why waste the day?  We can still fuck a few more times.”

He reaches out to stroke her arm, and Amy pulls back.  “Don’t you touch me,” she says, and her lower lip is trembling, and her chin is shaking, and she’s digging her nails into the soft flesh of her hands, and _maybe_ he’s taken things just a little too far.

“But you _like_ it when I touch you,” he says, (and when he thinks about it later, he’s surprised she didn’t slap him for that comment – he more than deserved it).

“Leave me the fuck alone,” she says, and then she turns on her heel and walks away from him – and Dan has just enough decency left to let her go (he does love to watch her leave).  He sees her bow her head as she walks away, and he knows that she’s crying, and he feels… he feels weirdly proud of himself.  He’d _made_ her cry.

* * *

 

Dan walked home that day, and planned out his date with Nicola, and didn’t think about Amy Brookheimer anymore (until he got into bed, and smelled her on the sheets, and remembered just how soft, and warm, she’d been against him that morning, and then he couldn't _stop_  thinking of her until he'd jerked off).

His relationship with Nicola is a whirlwind (purposefully so, on his part – judicial appointments don’t grow on trees), and it takes him longer than it should to realise that Amy is avoiding him.

She doesn’t get her ridiculously early morning breakfast in the Capitol cafeteria any more – she doesn’t go to drinks events in the House – and he’s almost positive that she hid herself in the ladies room one day when she saw him coming. 

Which… it’s irrational, but it pisses him off.  It’s not like he did anything so very terrible – everyone dates for power in DC, he’s just honest about it – and the first chance he gets, he pushes her up against a wall and reminds her that she’s honestly, deeply attracted to him, and they both know it. 

Amy doesn’t give in as easily as he’d expected, and she fights back every chance she gets, and that… that just makes it more fun.  Every time they’re at an event together he seeks her out – it’s too much fun to watch her loathe him, to show her whichever tall brunette he's currently dating, to call her ‘sweetheart’ and see her steel herself, because deep down inside, she still liked it when he called her that. 

But she’s too proud to keep running away from him, and so, after a while, she starts to seek him out too – to mock him, and judge him and demonstrate that it doesn’t matter how close he stands or what he says to her, she still despises him.  That she feels the need to prove this, over and over again, says everything really.  (That he feels the need to keep seeing her, long after they've dated, says nothing at all).

(When Amy confesses, years later, that she’d found him flat out _revolting_ during this time, that she’d thought she would never want him to touch her again, that if anything, he’d reminded her that she’d had a lucky escape, he almost doesn’t believe her.  And yet, she has no reason to lie).

For years people tell him that Amy Brookheimer is "so brilliant, so clever, so _tough_ " and he smiles to himself and knows that they’re all wrong. 

She’s a marshmallow, and he’s the only one who's seen it. 

(It’s almost an honour, but she wouldn’t appreciate it if he said that to her, so he doesn’t).

Sometimes he feels like they’re still on that sidewalk, on the cusp of something new, but fighting the same old fight again and again instead of grasping for it.

 

Years later, Dan will realise that Amy is exactly as tough as everyone always said – that she fought through her feelings, and fought with her feelings, and didn’t let them distract her from what needed to be done.  Loving him is _hard,_ and she fights it with everything she has, until one day, he can’t stand to watch her hurt herself like that anymore, and gives in.

He doesn’t really understand it – he’s never had to struggle like that, he's never had to be one tenth as ruthless with himself as she has.  Because for him, loving Amy is easy. 

 


	10. Comrades in Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post ep for 3.06. Dan and Amy in Detroit.

Comrades in Arms

Dan spends two hours reviewing the plans for London, their last night in Detroit.  Sue had emailed him a detailed itinerary, and then hung up on him the fifth time he rang her, saying she didn’t care what questions he had, she was going to bed.  He’d sworn at her and called back – several times – but evidently she meant what she said, because she didn’t pick up. 

With nothing else to do, he’d opened Mike’s latest speech draft – only to throw his iPad on the bed in frustration.  Commemorating the dead of a world war wasn’t _that_ difficult to do without lapsing into endless alliteration, and yet, somehow, Mike couldn’t manage it.

But given that he might actually burst into tears if Dan ripped the speech to shreds (the way it deserved), he didn’t demand that Mike show up and they work on the rewrite together.  If nothing else, he can’t face staring at his hangdog fucking face for the next four hours, so Dan texts someone a lot more appealing instead.  (Even with the miserable expression she’d had for the last month, he’d still rather look at Amy than anyone else).

She came, but she wasn’t happy.

She was so unhappy that he could see his door shake every time she hammered her fist on it. 

“Thanks,” he said, opening it, “I’m sure that’s good for the door.”

“You summoned me?”

Amy’s still wearing her – delightfully tight – dress and heels, and despite the late hour she looked polished (albeit rather enraged).  Dan, liking the idea of her being at his beck and call, raised his eyebrows at her and, if anything, her expression soured even more.  He thinks about taunting her some more, reminding her that she _has_ to do what he wants now, that he’s her _boss_ , but he restrains himself. 

He knows D.C. well enough to know that any number of candidates are probably trying to seduce Amy away from him (well, away from Selina) now that she’d been, so very publicly, passed over, and the part of his brain that he’s reserving to think about long-term strategy knows that would be bad.  Very bad. 

Amy was in the background of every photo of Selina taken in at least the last ten years, and since she was beautiful, the press actually paid attention to her (unlike Mike and Gary).  If she left, if Selina’s longest serving aide suddenly vanished, it would be like waving a red rag of slow campaign death in front of Leon West, and that’s the last thing Dan wants. 

Besides, if he has to run the campaign with _just_ Mike and Ben he actually will snap and kill one of them (okay, kill Mike).  He _needs_ her to stay, which means he has to try to be nice to her.

“Want a drink?” he says, offering her one of his cans of Red Bull, and laughing at the little moue of disgust on her face.

“No thanks.  It’s almost midnight, and I would like to get some actual sleep at some point.”

“Fine.  More for me.” 

He cracks open a can and swallows about a third of it, as Amy says, “Dan, it’s really late.  What do you want?”

He sits on the bed.  (A part of him, a part of him would really like to just lie back and sleep, but he knows that’s not possible, not yet, he’ll just lie there in the dark, mind turning and turning).  “What are we going to do about Mike?”

Amy folds her arms (she always does this when she’s annoyed with him – with anyone really – seemingly not having realised that all it does is draw people’s eyes to her tits).  “What is it now?”

“Have you seen this speech?  It’s like he decided F was the saddest letter in the alphabet – which, for him, it will be by the time I’m fucking finished with him.”

Amy shakes her head.  “It’s a first draft.  They can be rough, you know that.”

“No,” Dan said, “It’s more than that – he got outwitted by Jonah today – _Jonah_.  It’s not acceptable.”

“Mike is not the problem.”

“He’s nine tenths of the problem.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the other tenth.”

“I am doing everything I can to –”

“Yeah, but you used to work together on this stuff.  He doesn’t have you to bounce ideas off anymore, because every time he tries you just yell at him, and you won’t hire a new speechwriter, because –”

“We have the trip to London in about minute, I don’t have the time to train someone up, get them ready for a national campaign, and you’re the one who keeps complaining that the entourage is too big already, we can’t just add someone on, not like that – we’ve got major fucking national security shit to do in London, you know that.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Amy says. “When was the last time you were silent for five whole minutes?”

“Well you tell me how to fix this then.”

“Are you fucking serious?” she says, and she looks like she might actually claw his eyes out.  “You want me to fix your screw-up, in what, your second week in the job?  You are _unbelievable._   I already had to keep Ray from starting a fight in the corridor, and now this?”

“Look, Ray is probably the one thing that’s keeping Selina from flying off the handle right now – you think she would have handled getting backpatted by Maddox half as well if she wasn’t already in a good mood?  Don’t you understand what I’m doing here Amy?  I’m keeping that Andrew from roadblocking the entire fucking campaign, he’ll ruin everything, you’ve said it yourself, and she won’t even listen to Ben on it, so we’ve got to trick her somehow, and Ray keeps her distracted –”

“Okay,” Amy says, “Give me your damn iPad and lie on the bed.”  He must make some kind of pleased face, because she pulls the iPad out of his hands, and growls, “Not what I meant dumbass.”

She fumbles with the tablet, and eventually Dan takes it back and unlocks it for her before lying back down on the bed.  She must find what she’s looking for, because a moment later she props it up on his bedside table, and lies down beside him, saying, “You have to calm down, or I am going to _kill_ you.  It’s late, I’m tired, we’re not talking about this anymore.  We’re going to watch the Daily Show, and you are going to shut the fuck up and get it into your head that I am not your goddamn therapist.”

“But, I want to –”

“No,” she says, sounding worryingly determined.  “We’re not talking.  On the plane tomorrow we can look over those CVs I sent you, and you are going to hire a new speechwriter, comms director, whatever, and that person is going to pick up your slack.  You can’t do both.”

“But we have to –”

“Shut the fuck up Dan.”

And then Amy turns on her side, and presses play, and Jon Stewart’s voice fills the room.  And it’s a miracle – Selina’s gun show fuck-up doesn’t even make it into the episode (thank god for O’Brien and the build a fence nonsense he was still trying to sell).

He wants to keep talking, to walk through the timetable for London and figure out when they can fit in debate prep and discuss a way to circumnavigate Kent when he goes off on one of his fractal rants, but Amy won’t even look at him.  All he can see is her back, less stiff than usual, and somehow he can’t work out how to start a sentence that won’t piss her off even more.

When the episode ends, he waits for Amy to press stop and get up, but she doesn’t move.  In fact, when he leans over her to stop the video, he realises she’s actually fallen asleep.  And he can’t help it – the desire to mess with Amy, to play with her, just a little, is too strong, it’s feels like it’s been forever since he’s even teased her – he lets his arm rest on her waist, so he’s almost spooning her, a complete dead-weight.

He really just meant to have a little fun with her – and he doesn’t expect the way she jolts the second he touches her. 

But she does jolt, her breathing turning sharp as she wakes, and a moment later she turns her head back to look at him, and says “Dan, oh, jesus.” 

She sounds _relieved_ of all things, and he realises that he’d scared her (which, wasn’t the point, not at all, he’s not _that_ kind of prick).  “Wait,” she continues, surprised now, “Dan?  What the… Detroit.  Right.”

He’s still pretending to be asleep, but he lets his full weight press into her just a little more.  (He doesn’t want her to leave) (right now, with Amy, is the first time he’s been able to stop thinking in days) (she smells sweet, and so familiar, and… if he didn’t need her for the campaign, he’d try and sleep with her right now, so he’d actually sleep through the night, but… he does need her for the campaign, so that’s not an option).

“Get off,” she says, “I know you’re awake.”  (No, Dan thinks, she doesn’t.  If she knew he was awake she’d just shove him off her).  She waits a few seconds and adds, “So used to random warm bodies it didn’t even surprise you, huh?  Prick.” 

He works very hard to keep his face relaxed and sleepy, in case she’s looking at him, though it’s difficult when she says, “So, when you fucked Danny Chung, was it the best ever, cause you got to say your own name?”  She’s disgusting for even thinking of it, and he really, really wants to laugh. 

“I let Ray feel me up so he wouldn’t start a fight with Andrew – you owe me big time for that by the way.  He does give a good massage, I’ll say that for him, and I suppose… Selina did make me go on a date with Jonah, so it could have been worse.”  He more feels than hears her cringe as she says Jonah’s name.

“You know, sometimes, I really wish… maybe you are asleep.  And _heavy_.”  Amy pushes at his arm as she says it.

She sighs, sounding explosively frustrated, and then her phone rings, and he feels her stretch out to pick it up (and it’s a strain for her, because his arm is holding her back, but she just about manages). 

“Fuck,” Amy says, and for a moment he hopes it’s Ed who’s calling (it would be too good to listen in on one of her conversations with her milquetoast boyfriend).  “Sophie,” she says, sounding irritated, “What’s up?”

“Hi nerd.”  (Dan hadn’t expected to hear the other side of the phone call, but he must be closer to Amy than he’d realised).  “Can you talk?”

“I…wait a second,” Amy says, and then she pokes his arm with two fingers, hard, but not hard enough to actually hurt.  She’s testing to see if he’s asleep, and rather than lying perfectly still (which would be a dead giveaway), Dan uses it as an excuse to pull her closer.  It works, because Amy says, “Yeah I can talk, what’s up?”

“How’s Cleveland?”

“Detroit, actually,” Amy says, and she sounds more annoyed than she ever does with him.  “And it’s fine.”

“You never go anywhere cool.”

“I was in California like two weeks ago Sophie.”

“And all you did was talk to nerds and be yelled at by your boss.  Great trip Ame.”

“We got a lot done on the campaign there, it’s not like it was nothing.”

“Oh the _campaign_ , you think I want to hear about your stupid job?”

“It’s not stupid.”

“Oh sure, cause you always seem so happy.”

“Well maybe I won’t have a stupid job in a month or so, would that be better?”

“Please, like you’d ever quit.”

“I might not have the choice.”

“You’re still bitter about not being queen of the campaign or whatever?  Who gives a shit, it’s just a job, Amy, it pays the bills.  And just cause your ex-boyfriend –”

“Don’t call him that.  That implies some kind of mutual relationship, not – anyway, he’s probably going to get me fired.”

“He’s not going to do that.”

“Despite that weird little fantasy about him being a stand-up guy you’ve inherited from Mom, he absolutely would.  It’s probably the next step in his fucking plan.  Replace me completely.”

“Amy, I really don’t think –”

“I do.  They offered me a job in California you know – lots of money, and no stress, no constant crisis.”

“You should have taken it – sounds amazing.  We could come visit you in the summer.”

“That’s why it’s appealing to you, the free vacations.  I didn’t take it because… Selina could be the first woman President, Sophie, I could do that, and…it’s too important, I spent too long on it, to just walk away now.  He’s going to have to _make_ me leave.”

“Amy, he’s not going to fire you because you fucked him.”

“And therefore, what, you think out of the goodness of his heart he’s going to –”

“No, I think he probably knows that it would look like weird sexual harassment shit, so you’re safe.”

“Great,” Amy says, and she sounds grim.  (And this, this is bad, if she really thinks he’s about to shitcan her, she might jump on the first good offer she gets, and Dan doesn’t trust Danny Chung not to take advantage of that for a second).  (And whatever Amy might like to think, she’s more than susceptible to a sufficiently charming man, if caught in the right mood).

“If you’re so worried about it, just fuck him again, then he’ll have to –”

“No, jesus, Sophie.”

“What, would it be terrible?”

“It might,” Amy says (and for fuck’s sake, does she never let anything go?  She knows he can be good in bed).  “And okay, it _probably_ wouldn’t be, but that’s not the point.”

“Which is…”

“One, I’m not a prostitute, two I’m not a prostitute, and three…”

“You’re not a prostitute, yeah I got it.”

“And it wouldn’t work.”

“Oh Amy, have more confidence, I’m sure you can just about make it worth his –”

“You don’t _know_ him, Sophie.  Dan would sleep with me, and happily fire me the next day, the next second even.  He’d probably find it funny.”

“Well then stop complaining about it and _do_ something.  You’re the genius.  Make a voodoo doll of him and throw it in a river.”

“Thanks, I’ll get right on that, that’s really useful.  Why did you call anyway?”

“I just wanted to let you know, that I’m still seeing Phil, and it would be really great if you could not –”

“Dump him, dump him now, Sophie.”

“You’re really getting way to upset about this.”

“He’s fucking toxic.  Get rid of him.”

“You know, guys hate women who aren’t open-minded in bed, I’m sure your long-ass boyfriend would be up for a –”

“He choked you during sex, he didn’t ask permission, he didn’t talk about it, he just did it.  Because his boner is more important than you feeling like you’re about to die.”

“He said he was sorry, and he thought it would be hot.”

“You had fingermarks on your neck,” Amy says, and she sounds furious.  “You have two daughters.  Do you want them to think that’s okay?”

“Oh, whatever, it’s not like it’s serious.”

“Of course not.”

“Oh, like any of your guys have been so wonderful.  Don’t pretend you’re in love with that Ed dude, I mean, really.”

“I… No, I’m not,” Amy says (he _knew_ it).  “And I don’t want to be, I’ve got too much to do, I don’t some fucking messed up love of my life shit… and yeah, I have dated some _shitty_ men, who weren’t particularly nice to me or weren’t interested in… but not one of them has ever left me with choke marks.  That’s not normal, Sophie, and you shouldn’t act like it is.”

“Whatever,” her sister says.  “When are you back from London?”

“The timetable’s still being finalised, so I’m not sure.”

“Well I’ll send you the details of Giselle’s birthday party, if you can make the time to come.”

“Will Phil be there?”

“No – he’s not their stepdad.”

“All right,” Amy said, “I’ll try.”

“Well don’t sprain anything.  I’d hate to get in the way of your busy schedule.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“Well it’s the least you can do, _Amy_ , showing up.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll try.”

Amy hangs up, and says, “fucking Sophie,” he thinks to relieve her feelings.  She yawns, and she really must be tired, because he can feel her whole body soften, like she wants to melt into the bed.  “Get up,” she says.  “Your bed is just as soft, and doesn’t have a douchebag in it.  Get up.”

She must be tempted to stay, because it’s another thirty seconds or so before she actually moves, pushing his arm off her with all her weight and sitting up.  Dan can tell she’s looking back at him, and he stays slumped on the bed (if only she _had_ stayed, he could have teased her for days, and the warm weight of her beside him might have actually drawn him into sleep).

Amy stands, and walks briskly towards the door, picking something up as she goes.  It’s only when he hears the door close that Dan opens his eyes. 

She’s taken his Red Bull.

She’s taken his fucking Red Bull.

How is he supposed to get anything done now? 

And how the hell is he supposed to manage Amy thinking he’s out to ruin her career, on top of everything else?  Like he doesn’t have enough to do, now he’s got to take care of her fucking wounded pride? 

But if she leaves… if she leaves it will be bad.  Amy might not realise it, but Selina relies on her, more than anyone else (more than him, that’s for certain).  He doesn’t want to picture just how erratic Selina could get without her. 

What to do?  She won’t believe him if he says he wants her to stay – she won’t believe a single thing he says, she’s learned not to – she won’t believe him if he says he needs her.

Jesus, he just wanted to run a campaign, he doesn’t have the time to deal with everyone’s hurt fucking feelings, he’s not their damn therapist, he barely has the time to keep _himself_ from going crazy, let alone…

He stays awake until four am, fixing Mike’s speech and trying to think of a way to get Amy on side. 

He fails. 

And when she brings the stack of CVs to him on the plane, they get into a fight about her stealing his energy drinks, and don’t manage to review more than three of them. 

But it’s not like they need a new comms director that much anyway.

It’s fine.  He’s fine.  It will all be fine.


	11. Nightcap?

Amy wakes moments before their plane starts its descent into Carson City.

She’d had scarcely a moment to stop in days – between prepping for the election broadcast with Dan, and helping Selina stay sane through election night, and strategizing with Ben and Kent about the recount, and racing to the airport to catch her flight, she couldn’t actually remember how many hours sleep she’d had in the last three days (but it was probably in the single digits).

Fortunately, she kept an emergency case in the trunk of her car, with a toothbrush, pyjamas and a single change of clothes.  But even so, in the fifteen minutes between making it through security and getting to their departure gate, she’d ducked into the airport drugstore to get fresh make-up and a hairbrush (and a least partially to escape Jonah’s disgruntled ranting about Dan’s presence, because oh, she really didn't care).

Their flights had been booked at the last possible moment, and so their seats are spread all over – two middle seats and a pair at the very back of the plane. Initially, Amy is stuck beside Jonah, and after listening to a full thirty seconds of his complaints that she had the aisle seat while he (with his infinitely longer legs) was trapped by the window, she called Dan, sharply, and insisted they swap. 

As thanks, she gave Dan the aisle seat (or maybe just to piss off Jonah) (or maybe both).

It’s a long flight and, since it’s commercial, they have no access to their phones, or the outside world, and Amy can feel herself beginning to tense, trying to sort through all the variables she knows she’ll have to deal with in Carson City.  It’s an immense relief when Dan holds up his phone, saying, “I’ve got the New York Times and Washington Post political podcasts.  Want to listen?”

Amy hadn’t even thought of that, but at least it means she’ll be able to put the time to use somehow (and stop thinking for five whole minutes), so she puts one of Dan’s headphones in her ear, and they settle down to listen together. 

She didn’t mean to fall asleep.  

She even more didn’t mean to fall asleep on Dan’s shoulder.

She woke oddly, sliding from dreaming sleep to complete wakefulness in the time it took to open her eyes.  There was no surprise, no noise that woke her, just a sudden transition that left her disoriented, to say the least.  She blinked up at Dan, who was reading a copy of The Economist and frowning.

“Dan?”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry, I thought… I thought maybe I was still dreaming.”  (Even as the words come out, she’s cursing herself for saying them).

“Dream about me often, do you?”

“No,” Amy said and sat up properly.  (She can’t quite believe he let her lie on him for hours… but at least she hadn’t drooled on his suit, or something similarly embarrassing).  “I don’t – I haven’t…”  She takes a deep breath, and tries to sound more coherent.  “In the time we have known each other I have dreamt of you precisely once, and I guarantee it’s not what you’re thinking.”

“Oh, really?  Were we on a plane?”

“No.  I don’t think my imagination could dream up a scenario this outlandish.”

Dan nods, since she has a point, but he keeps his eyes fixed on her, and she feels slightly uncomfortable.  “What?” she says, “Do I have something on my face?”

“No, your face is fine,” he says, and she kind of wants to slap him (she doesn't know why) (the affectionate tone in his voice is somehow offensive). 

“How long was I out?”

“Don’t you know?”

“No,” Amy says, trying to think back on it.  “I… I don’t remember.  You put the podcast on and then… nothing.”

“Well, you missed Jonah getting into a fight with the sweet old grandma sitting beside him.”

“She wouldn’t swap?”

“Well, she might have considered it, but Jonah –”

“The Human Brontosaurus is not overly endowed with charm, I have noticed.  Let’s hope she doesn’t tweet.”

They’re interrupted by the plane landing, and the usual stampede as people bounce out of their seats in an effort to be first off the plane.  Since they’re right at the back, Amy doesn’t bother, and switches her phone on instead.  She has several panicked messages from Selina, three dozen emails (most of them from Kent, updating her on various bits of Nevada electoral data, and therefore not requiring a response), and a demand from Ben that she call him as soon as she’s off the plane.

She dashes off replies, and when she’s looked up from her phone she sees Dan has already taken their bags down from the overhead locker (something of a relief, as she’s always found that something of a challenge).  She takes her laptop bag from him and as she swings the strap over her shoulder, she feels Dan’s hand lift her hair up.  When she looks at him curiously, he says, “You always get it caught underneath the strap, and then you have to do that weird little dance thing to pull it free.”

He looks faintly embarrassed, though Amy can’t work out why (it’s not like he’s _wrong_ ).  “Thank you, I guess.” (Now that she thinks about it, he’s done that once or twice before, she just hadn’t noticed).

Dan doesn’t say anything, but a moment later he lifts the bag from her shoulder and slings it over his own.  Given that he’s the least chivalrous person Amy’s ever known, she can’t quite make him out, but when he says “You’re slow enough with those little legs,” she feels like normality has been re-established.

They make their way through airport, Amy letting Dan deal with Jonah and Richard while she talks with Ben.  It seems like half of D.C. has descended on Carson City, and they have to queue for the car hire for longer than she thinks she can bear (she wants to go to _bed_ ).  When they reach the hotel she happily lets Dan take charge – sending Jonah to check them in, and Richard to order drinks for them all, and finding the one seat left in the bar.

She glares at him when he sits in it, (because of course, of _course_ ), but it’s an armchair style seat, and after a moment or two she perches on the armrest (Amy’s not standing up in heels for anyone right now). 

“So,” Dan says, with one of those smiles that always makes her want to do something extreme (kiss him or kill him or maybe both).  “Tell me about this dream?”

She rolls her eyes.  “I’m already regretting mentioning it.”

“Why?” he says, “Was it filthy?”

“No.” Amy says, shifting in her seat, trying to find her balance.  Dan reaches his arm around her, steadying her – she’d ream him for it, but for once he doesn’t say something obnoxious, or smirk, or _anything_ , and the warm weight of his hand against her hip is oddly comforting, like an anchor. 

“So are you too ashamed to tell me?”

“ _No_.  Though you’re going to be disappointed, it’s not… it was just weird.”

“Well, tell me.”

“Allright, fine,” she says, rolling her eyes.  “So, I was in bed.”

“Well, yeah –”

“No, I meant, I dreamt I was in bed.  And before you ask… asleep in bed, _alone_.”

“You dreamt that you were asleep?”

”I told you it was weird.  Anyway, someone touched my shoulder, to wake me up, I felt their hand, and said, ‘Amy, Amy, you have to wake up, you’re going to miss it.’  And I did, I woke up, only still in the dream, and it was you.  I was in my own room, with sun streaming in the window, but you just looked at me, and you said ‘you have to wake up, you're going to miss it’ and then I actually did.   At five in the morning.”  Dan looks almost disappointed, and she continues.  “And the really weird part is… I didn’t have to wake up for anything at all, it was actually a day off.  I ended up lying awake for two hours, very annoyed with you, trying to go back to sleep.”

“So you were _in bed_.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Amy said, “but that is the whole dream.  You had a green tie on, I remember that.”

“And what were you wearing?”

“Pyjamas,” she says flatly, not wanting to add further fuel to his ego.  “Big thick flannel ones.”

“No you weren’t,” Dan says, laughing, and she feels her mouth curving to smile with him (damn him).  She knows she’s staring at him, at his eyes, and she can’t stop it, she feels almost pulled in by him (because he’s like that goddamn snake from the Jungle Book, hypnotic).

Dan clears his throat, and says, “You know there’s been a chair there for like five minutes?”

“What?”

“I mean, I don’t mind,” he says, flexing his fingers against her hip, “If you’re comfortable.”

Amy jolts, but she’s not going to let him win this one.  “Well I was,” she says, “Until you made it _weird_.”

And then she shifts away from him, and sits on one of the chairs Jonah had found for them (she suspects he’s insulted half the bar in the process, but right now she’s so relieved to get away from Dan she doesn’t care).  He doles out the room keys, and Amy decides she’s had enough, and grabs one. "Take my drink,” she says to Jonah, “I’m going to bed.”

“Oh _really_ ,” Jonah says, and she grimaces.

“Try not to insult every _single_ person here, would you?  I need my sleep.”

She takes her bags (all of them), and makes her way to the exit, trying to pretend she can’t feel Dan’s eyes on her back (but she _can_ , and it makes her twitchy) (she doesn't want him to follow her) (but she  _does_ ).  When she finally looks back at him, he winks at her, which just makes it worse.

* * *

 

 

Amy walks back to her room, holding her hands stiffly in front of her, trying not to fidget, not to shake. 

She couldn’t do it.  She couldn’t make herself do it.

After an hour of Sophie poking her with questions about Dan, and speculations about the two of them, and guesses about what Amy had wanted to do with him, she’d gotten her her own room.  (Far away, at the other end of the hotel, so Amy could safely escape her – there’s only so many times she can stand to be called a nerd in one night).

Worn down by the effort of not-snapping at Sophie, she’d texted Dan to tell him they were going to the bar and he should come save her from her sister.  Before he’d even answered, she dragged Sophie down there and unleashed her on the assembled crowd.  With her own bedroom, (and her obsession with things staying in _Vegas_ ), Sophie was sure to find some victim, and while Amy might find her relentless need for male attention rather aggravating… it set her free, and that was more than enough.

She’d been sitting at the bar for approximately three minutes (sending a very, very long text to Ben) when Dan joined her.  He didn’t comment on the fact that Sophie had abandoned her (but since she was talking to a group of men in cowboy boots, he could probably work out what had happened). 

She meant to buy him a drink, she really did, but she never got the chance – every time she noticed their drinks getting low, Dan had already ordered another round… and that should have made her nervous, more nervous than she already was, but somehow it didn’t.  She made some stupid joke about him getting her drunk, and instead of laughing, he just shrugged and said, “Is it working?”

And she didn’t… she didn’t know what to say to that (yes, was the obvious answer, absolutely yes) (she kept wanting to hold his hand, to run her fingers along his forearm, and being drunk was the only possible explanation for wanting to do something so foolish).  So she shrugged in her turn and said, “You’ll have to try harder than that.”

(Another stupid thing to say.  Dan can outdrink her any time he feels like it – it’s not like it’s hard).

They kept talking, and they kept laughing, and Dan’s smile is warming something inside her (something that shouldn’t _be_ warmed, that she keeps chilly and cut off for a reason) and so she tells him she’s sleeping alone tonight. 

Amy’s not even sure if she meant it as an invitation, but the way Dan cocks his head at her words, she knows he’s taken it as one, and she can’t… she can’t… she can’t look at him, she can’t let him see her, she has to go.

(The tone in his voice when he replied… she’d never expected to hear it again).  (She’d thought it wouldn’t shiver over her skin anymore, but she was wrong).

She doesn’t quite run out of the bar, but it’s close – closer than she would admit, if she was asked.  Amy doesn’t even know _why_ she’s so shaky.  She’d propositioned Dan – or at least, he thought she had – what the fuck was she thinking?

She leans back against her hotel room door, trying to calm herself down, but her rational mind is screaming at her.  He didn’t give a fuck about her – he’d push her into traffic at the first opportunity – but his hands were so warm – but he’d gotten her a job when he didn’t have to – he’d messed with her mind over and over – but he’d left _his own party_ to make her feel better – he’d as good as told her he’d never been in to her at all – but he came to Nevada when she asked – but he implicated Gary and Mike and Ben at the hearings, and didn’t say a word about her – but he made her laugh just by looking in her eyes…

She bangs her head against the door, and goes to the minibar.  If she’s seriously considering this absolute fucking insanity, she’s going to do it like an adult, not some panicking child. 

She changes into pyjamas, pours herself a stiff drink, and tries to reason with herself.

Sure, Dan had only slept with her before for his career.  And sure, as far as she could tell, that was the only reason he ever slept with anyone (barring the occasional one night stand that he always made sure she knew about).  But… she’d already got him a job.  She’d already brought him to Nevada.

There’s nothing else she can do for him now, not a single thing.  (She’d get Selina to hire him back permanently, but she knows her old boss, and given the mood she’s been in lately, the mere fact that _Amy_ had asked would make her say no.  She’s already done everything she can for him).

And if Amy knows that, then _Dan_ must know that. 

Which meant… which meant that he must actually _want_ to sleep with her.  

(There’s a part of her that still can’t quite believe it, that still, years later, feels slightly raw at the way he’d dumped her, that is terrified, because how is she even _thinking_ about this?) 

He must actually _want_ her. 

(The one redeeming feature of his complete insensitivity is that Amy can be confident about this – he wouldn’t pretend to be attracted to her to spare her feelings, not at all).

She’s been making herself not want him for so long.

She’s been forcing herself, and yelling at herself, and tying herself in knots, all so that she won’t want him.  And none of it, none of it, has worked.

And yeah, he’s a terrible person, but he’s _hers_.  (She tried not to think about it, but Amy knew – and loved, deep down in her cavewoman brain – Dan never smiled at anyone else the way he smiled at her, he never looked at anyone else the way he looked at her).

Besides, don’t ask, don’t get, she knows that all too well.

And at least this way, this way she’ll _know_ , she’ll have a clear answer one way or the other, the question of Dan will be finally settled, and maybe… maybe all the tension that’s kept her wound so tight around him will be gone at long last.

Plus, it’s not like Dan has ever, _ever_ , said no to sex, so the worst possible outcome is really, _really_ unlikely.  (And he might sleep with her and vanish, but that… that would be an answer in and of itself).

Amy knocks back her whiskey, and stares at her phone. 

She is absolutely out of her goddamn mind, but she’s doing this all the same.

Her fingers shake as she types in the word.

“Nightcap?”


	12. Love's Opposite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Nevada. Ben and Amy and twenty-six unexpected text messages.

Love’s Opposite

There are few things Ben Cafferty gives less a shit about than the personal dramas of his staff.  He has learned the hard way that it is always, always best to know less than nothing, and over the years had managed to cultivate the qualities of strategic blindness and deafness to a high degree.  He can always, legitimately, claim to be completely surprised by any scandalous behaviour, whenever the political situation requires him to do so.

But twenty-six text messages can’t really be ignored, no matter how much Ben might prefer that option.

It takes a while for him to raise it with Amy, but she races into their strategy meeting a few days before Thanksgiving, mumbling something about Dan having to take a phone call and being on his way.

Since (for once) they’re alone, Ben takes the opportunity.  “So, Amy,” he says, “I’d been meaning to ask you for a nightcap.”

Amy’s face simply _collapses_ with horror, and before he can even continue to tease her, words start to stream out of her mouth in a gush of social anxiety.  “Ben, I am so, so sorry for that, I know it must appear… it must have the impression of… I know it was exact opposite of professional, and I want to apologise to you, and also to anyone else who might have…seen that I was texting you, because I know that your wife might not appreciate… not that she’d have any reason to think, I mean, I’m sure she’d never dream you'd –”

There comes a point when it’s simply not funny anymore, and so he cuts her off.  “Relax Amy, I wasn’t under the impression that you were pining for my sad sack alcoholic ass.”

“Well, _no_ ,” Amy says (how she got this far in professional politics will always amaze him, she can’t conceal a thing) (at this particular moment, for instance, it's clear she’s wondering whether being too emphatic will insult him).

“But, you know Ame, I’m surprised you’d even waste your time on someone who didn’t have the sense to come running the first time you asked.”  She looks at her hands, her cheeks turning pink as he continues.  “Twenty-six text messages… you must have really wanted whoever it was.”

Embarrassment he expects, but the look of flat out… devastation that crosses her face is rather worrying, especially the visible effort she has to put in to pulling it back.  Ben’s had his suspicions in the past, though not altogether willingly (Kent’s weird crush on Sue was one thing, but the constant shitshow between Amy and Dan almost _forced_ itself on everyone who spent more than five minutes around them). 

“So, can I at least rest easy knowing the magic spell of Nevada didn’t make you fall into Jonah Erectus’ arms at long last?”

“I would never!” she says, sounding outraged (and outrage is good – certainly better than actual fucking _feelings_ ).  “Jesus Christ, do you really think so little of me?”

So it _was_ Dan. 

Not that it was hard to figure out.  Amy was far too tightly wound to meet and bed a man in less than twenty-four hours, which pretty much ruled out anyone who wasn’t on the recount team.  And the only thing _more_ unbelievable than her wanting Jonah would be her wanting Richard J Splett.  Ben wasn’t even sure he _had_ genitals.

“No, but it’s fun to mess with you, and until Dan gets here I’ve got nothing else to do.”

“I’m sorry about all the messages,” Amy said, clearly making a real effort to keep her voice sounding calm.  “I know it was unprofessional, and I promise it will never happen again.”

“All right then.”

“But, I would really appreciate it if you could not mention any of this, to anyone, ever, and we could just bury it like... Jimmy Hoffa.”

“Done,” Ben says, though the nerves in her voice throw him slightly.  It’s been clear almost as long as Ben’s known him that the only Dan Egan _might_ want as much as he wants power is to have Amy Brookheimer fall into his arms… so this nervousness seems rather overblown.  He’d understand it from some twenty-year old, but it’s completely out of place in _Amy_.

He’s not going to question her about it – he really doesn’t want to know what kind of adolescent tangle they’ve gotten themselves mired in, and he even more doesn’t want to know what magic dick-power Dan has to keep her interested, despite his obvious and unending douchebaggery.  (Though, to be fair, at least half the women Ben knew in politics had appalling – _inexplicable_ – taste in men, Selina being a case in point).

Dan breezes into the room shortly afterwards, saying he’d dealt with whatever it was he’d been dealing with, and Amy keeps looking at Ben, her gaze steady, and if her knuckles weren’t white around her phone, Ben would assume she was just tired of Dan’s eternal peacocking. 

But they are, and she’s doing her best not to look at him, and Amy doesn’t have the finesse to ignore Dan without making it obvious, and the entire situation is bizarre in a way Ben is not fully comfortable with. 

Still, this is really not his business, and so he gets down to it with them, detailing the state delegations he’ll be sending them out to woo before the Congressional Ball in December.  New York was almost certain to be on their side (fortunate, as Dan had screwed over one of their congresswomen an election or two ago, and she had a long memory for humiliations, or at least, humiliations that brutal), but Ohio was likely to be a challenge… especially as Roger Furlong was known to be on their side, and the entire state delegation hated him on general principle.

They both smile and nod, and pretty soon they’re down to brass tacks – identifying possible levers, and spending promises, that could get them the votes they need.  It’s the kind of work he expects them to be good at, having lobbied (reasonably successfully) together in the past, but there’s a weird disconnect. 

Usually Amy and Dan can communicate without actually speaking – it’s why Ben let her bring him to Nevada, because she needed competent help, and he certainly didn’t have anyone to offer her – but it’s like the cord has been… if not broken, certainly strained. 

“Once Kent’s done with the latest polling round, he’s going to come help us prep,” Ben says, for once missing the robot in question (even one more person would take the edge off all the non-verbals he is trying not to notice).  “We’ve got to roll this out straight after Thanksgiving, and I want us to have lined up angles for every single one.”

“Have you got someone doing opposition research?” Dan asks, with a gleam in his eyes that suggested dubious possibilities were circling the drain of his mind (which, fine, blackmail is a perfectly acceptable option for maintaining power when the other option is losing).

“Kent is handing control of the research team to one of his flunkies, and we’ve got the Whips Office feeding in, but we’ll have to get creative.  It’s not like we’re the only ones offering to suck them off.”

“So we do it better,” Amy says, “It’s not like it’s hard.  Can’t Selina have her boyfriend write a few cheques?”

“A little tip for the future – when you refuse to bail out a man’s bank, he tends to take it personally.”

“Men take everything personally Ben,” Amy says, sounding weary.  “Especially congressmen.”

“Speaking of which,” he replies, and he can’t help it, he’s looking forward to this, “Selina said you have to get a new gown.”

“What?”

“You’re going to be her right hand woman at the Ball, and you’ve seen that bit of Casino Royale, right?  She wants you leaning over at the crucial moments, and apparently none of your ballgowns will do the trick, they're too...restrictive.” 

Dan’s not even bothering to hide his snickering, and Amy looks like she’s been asked to swallow sour milk.  “Do I get a choice in whether to participate in this honey-trap fuckery?”

“Sure, you get to pick the colour of the dress.  And she’ll pay for it.”

“Oh.  How generous.  So does she want full Jessica Rabbit, or –”

“No,” Ben says, holding a hand up, “We want them distracted, not overwhelmed.  Implied hand jobs only.”

“Well then don’t unleash her on the Nevada delegation.  She’ll have the Secretary of State on his knees before he can blink.  It’s pathetic,” Dan says, and there must be a barb somewhere in his words, because Amy sits up straighter.

“You know,” she says, “Some people are able to talk to a woman _without_ turning it into some fucked up…never mind.”  She looks back at Ben.  “Was there anything else?”

“Yeah,” he says, “there is.  Take Thanksgiving off.  You need the break.”

“It’s fine,” Amy says sharply, “My family understand, they don’t expect – there’s no reason for me to –”

“You’ve worked every Thanksgiving since Selina’s first primary campaign.  Take the day.  Dan can spot you – he’s not going to his family, is he?”

“No,” Dan says, “And besides, this will give you and Sophie a chance to _catch up_.”

“I have no need –”  Amy begins, speaking hotly, but she sees Dan grinning and clearly thinks better of it, because she reins herself in and continues.  “Fine.  I won’t work Thanksgiving.  Thanks Ben.  Now since Kent’s still not here, I’m going to my computer to find a fucking dress.”

She leaves, carefully _not_ slamming the door behind her, and Ben’s left with nothing to do but stare at Dan’s self-satisfied face.  He’s never had much in the way of patience for him, but right now, he’d happily watch him drown.  “I don’t know why,” he says, “But you actually manage to surprise me with how much of a dumbfuck you really can be.”

“Excuse me?”

“Maybe you’ve deluded yourself into thinking otherwise, but the only reason we brought you back on was because she asked.  Now Amy’s very smart, but every once in a while she gets these…notions.  Like, wanting a real life, or thinking Selina will one day be a great President, or imagining that you’re actually worth keeping around.  Of course, I know she’s wrong about that, and you know she’s wrong about that… but I don’t think you want _her_ to know it, just yet.”

“She told you?” Dan says, sounding…affronted.

“Told me what?” Ben says, and dear lord, if Egan actually confides in him, he is going to laugh for _days_. 

But he doesn’t say anything, just looks shifty, and whatever it is, he’s clearly not too proud of it.  (At least, he’s not too proud of it when Amy’s out of view). 

“Believe it or not, when I talk to Amy, you’re the very last thing we discuss.  She hasn’t told me a single thing.  But you’re going to have to work together on seducing Congress, and right now, you’ve got her wound so tight she’ll –”

“Oh _have_ I?”

The little shit is actually pleased with himself, happy at the thought he can affect her so badly, that she was practically shaking when she left the room, and it’s like he can’t see… it’s fucking _loathsome_ to look at.

“It’s probably just an overwhelming desire to smack you in the mouth – and I know how that feels – but whatever it is you’re doing, stop it.  I’m not fucking joking, Dan.  You think I can’t see what was going on in here?  I have enough to deal with with Selina being half way to unhinged without having you upset the whole goddamn apple cart because you can’t stop trying to head game one of the only reliable people in the building.  Now get the fuck out of my sight.”

It works – not immediately, but it works.  By Thanksgiving the two of them are managing to be almost civil to one another, which, with the way everyone else is behaving, feels like a miracle.  And when Dan, as usual, is too dumb to see the opportunity he’s being offered with Jonah’s campaign, Amy’s the one who talks him round.  Ben thanks her for it, later, and Amy sighs.  “Everybody wins,” she says.  “It’ll be good for his career, even if he loses, and if he wins… we get that extra vote.  Plus, now I don’t have to look at him for a month.”

If she thinks Dan’s not going demand her presence in New Hampshire within two weeks or less, she doesn’t know her man, Ben thinks, but decides not to say.  Instead, he squeezes her shoulder, and says, “You’re good people, Amy.”

“No, I’m not.  I’m stupid.”

“Please, you haven’t met my wife.  Believe me, it could be much worse.”

“I’m sure your wife actually gives a shit about you, so no, it couldn’t.”

It’s the matter of fact tone in which she says it that really gets to him, and so later that day, when he’s reviewing the guest list with Sue, Ben makes sure to have Buddy Calhoun included.  He’s still going to send Amy to New Hampshire once the Ball is over, but he can do that much for her.

Some day soon someone really is going to smack Dan Egan in the mouth, and Ben’s not going to do a thing to stop it.


	13. The Wrong Remedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-ep for Helsinki

It’s a nine hour flight back to DC. 

Nine hours of listening to Selina try to psychoanalyse just why she used the phrase “I stand with the President,” nine hours of Gary passive-aggressively complaining about her smoking, and nine hours of email alerts about the Veep’s new pretty-boy press secretary failing abysmally to charm the European press.

(There are times, Dan swears, when he wants to punch the next person who calls him pretty.  Someday he’ll grow the world’s thickest beard, just to spite them).

Three and a half hours in, he can’t take it anymore, and heads to the (empty) press section to escape it.  Selina had gone to put on her pyjamas and hopefully, by the time she comes back, she’ll have moved on to complaining about, oh, anything else. 

He finds Amy.

The press section, while more luxurious than most commercial flights, still had its seats arranged in rows.  Amy was in a window seat, leaving back against the wall of the plane, with her legs up in front of her.  She’d lifted the armrest between the window and middle seats, to give herself more room, and covered her lap with a blanket.  For a moment Dan hovers, not sure whether to wake her or leave her in peace, and then, with her eyes still closed, she says flatly, “You can sit.”

“How did you know I was there?” he asks, genuinely curious for once.

Amy still hasn’t opened her eyes.  “It’s probably Stockholm syndrome.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, I recognised your…walk, or tread, or whatever.”

“Been listening out for it, have you?”

“Something like that,” she says, and finally looks at him.  She’s taken off her suit jacket, and he can just see the tips of her stockinged feet peeking out from under the blanket.  “Still fuming that you’re a failure at being Mike?”

“You’ve had days to rub that in, let it go.”

“Danteeksi,” she says and grins at him.  (It’s so rare to see Amy smile like that, wide and uninhibited, that he finds himself smiling back, though he never wants to hear that nickname again in his life if he can help it).

He leans his head back on the seat and listens to the plane for a moment.  He doesn’t expect it when Amy says, “I did talk to her about Kent you know.”

“No, I don’t know.”

“I tried to get her to swap you and…I didn’t get anywhere, but I tried.”

“You mean you didn’t want to go on a romantic trip to Europe with me?”

“I’m just glad you only ruined Finland and not Paris.”

“Please,” Dan says, amused at the image that’s struck him, “You would _love_ to go to Paris with me.  Just wait, we’ll end up walking the Seine together and you’ll be wishing I’d hold your hand.”

“Dream the fuck on, Dan.”

“Well if I’m so terrible, why did you talk to her?”

Amy rolls her eyes.  “This may come as a surprise, but you’re not deep.  I _know_ you – I know everything about you.  You’ve had, what, four jobs in the time we’ve known each other – and I don’t even know how many before then?”

“Do you have a point here?”

“You’ll get bored and you’ll leave.  And, with the shitstorm that’s about to break, I don’t want to deal with it by myself.”

“Because you’d miss me?”

“You make a much better meatshield than Mike, I’ll say that much.”

“And you’d miss me.”

“Whatever.”

“This literally just happened, Amy, and you had to have talked to Selina before we got on the plane.  It didn’t have anything to do with the President’s CIA cock-up, and you don’t want to admit it.”

“How are you even able to walk in a straight line?  I swear, sometimes you’re as delusional as Jonah.”

He can’t help it, Dan smiles at her, and smiles even more when she huffs in irritation with him.  (He can’t even tell why he’s smiling).  (He feels this weird urge to stroke her hair or rest his hand on her leg or cup her face).  (If only because she’d flush up all outraged and furious and he will always love to see _that_ ).

They sit for a moment in silence, and he admires the softness of Amy’s face in the low plane light.  It always entertains him, the contrast between her sweet-lipped, rosy face and the ruthless mind it conceals.  Sure, he can be manipulative, but Amy is the world’s most appealing trap, and half the time even she doesn’t seem to know it. 

(If she only had the will, she could be just as devastating as he is, more so even.  He sees how men look at her, even if she never does).

“Well thanks,” he says, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know I didn’t, but I’m a better person than you, so…”

“Oh, I think we both know that’s not true.”

Amy curls her head into her shoulder, and lets out a little sound that’s halfway between a moan and a yawn.  “You think she’s abused Gary enough she’ll be rational?”

“I’d let it blow out a little longer – you’re not going to get her to talk through anything reasonable just yet.  At least the press calls have stopped coming.”

“Thank god for the time difference,” Amy says. “Seriously, outraged Europeans are nothing compared to what’s coming.  And I thought Super Tuesday was a disaster.”

“Super Tuesday _was_ a disaster.”

“That you would have prevented, I’m sure.”

He shrugs.  “You’re catching on.”

“Leave me alone, Dan, I’m tired.”

“Finnish cold get to you?” 

She makes a questioning face. 

“You’re all bundled up,” Dan says, poking the blanket.  He’s rather startled when he hits something hard (or at least, harder than Amy’s stomach should be).  “The fuck?”

“I…”  Amy purses her lips, and then looks him dead in the eye.  “I suspect it’s unlikely you will restrain the urge to be an asshole about this, but… I ran out of Advil – I didn’t bring enough, turns out, and I don’t know the Finnish word for ibuprofen, and… a hot water bottle helps sometimes, so I improvised.  Go on, make the joke.”

“Just how much of a scumbag do you think I am?”

“Do you want that chronologically or alphabetically?”

She doesn’t look like she’s in pain.  “Is it really that bad?”   

“No, I… I wanted to be on top of things in Helsinki, so I took all of them and… I’m not about to die or anything, I just…it makes it difficult to sleep sometimes.”

“I didn’t realise.”

“Of course you didn’t realise, Dan, because I’m a fucking professional.”

“I can tell with Sue.”

“What?”

“Most days she only threatens to kill Mike or Jonah – that only gets spread out to you or me about once a month.”

“Sue does not like you.”

“No,” Dan says, “But she likes me better than Mike.”

“Pity that doesn’t apply to journalists, isn’t it?”

“So you _are_ cranky.  Just grab some drugs out of the Leviathan if you need them that bad.”

“Have you ever tried to take something out of there without Gary’s permission?  I do not have the energy for his crying right now.”

“So you’re going to not sleep for the entire flight and then try to manage the entire D.C. press corps?”

“It’s not my preferred option, but – where are you going?”

He doesn’t bother answering her, just walks back to Selina’s private cabin.  Unsurprisingly, Gary’s by the door, offering to brush her hair or suck her toes or whatever horrifying thing he does with her when they’re alone.  “Open the bag,” he says.

Gary clutches it to his chest protectively (you’d think Selina’s embryos were in there or something), and Dan rolls his eyes.  “I’m not going to take your precious baby – I just want your ibuprofen.”

“No, this is the Vice-President’s bag, you don’t get to –”

“Oh for fuck’s sake Gary – I’ll buy you a refill when we land.”

“What do you even need it for, you can’t just take her medication.”

“It’s not for me,” he says (baffled, as usual, that Selina puts up with this constantly).  “It’s for Amy.”

“What’s wrong with Amy?”

Gary jumps at Selina’s voice, and Dan takes the opportunity to inveigle himself further into the room.  Selina is seated at her desk, Vice-Presidential pyjamas on, and make-up off (it’s always slightly strange to him seeing her like this – a weird reminder that underneath the politician there’s an actual person). 

“Nothing serious, ma’am, just…” he gestures towards his stomach, “you know…”

“Cramps, Dan?  Is that what you’re trying not to say?”

He nods his head.  “Yes, Ma’am.  She’s curled up back there because she knows Gary won’t help, and we need her on top of her game, so –”

“Yes, yes,” Selina says, “Give it to him.”  There’s a moment’s silence, and she adds, “You know this is a special case, so do it.”

Gary looks shocked and appalled and wounded, but he hands Dan a plastic sheet of pills, and, to his surprise, a protein bar.  “Remind her that she’s not supposed to take it on an empty stomach.  She should know that.”

“Thanks.”

Amy eyes him suspiciously when he puts the pills in her lap, but she takes them.  And, though she takes care to inform him that this doesn’t change the fact that he’s the worst person she’s ever met, over the next half hour or so he sees her body slowly relax, sees her stop clenching in on herself, and that will always be his favourite way to see Amy.  Relaxed and pliant and smiling at him (because she can’t stop herself) and scheming up a storm.

She never shows that dimly-lit, unscrupulous part of herself to anyone but him.  If she realised, if she knew the intimate way she let him see her, she'd probably stop, probably run screaming away from him.  But she hasn't yet, and Dan knows she hasn't let anyone else see her like that, really see her, either.

This Amy, the real Amy, she's  _his_.  She just won't admit it.


	14. Set Fire to My Tie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2.06, Dan's point of view. (By popular demand).
> 
> Title is a reference to Tom Lehrer's song "The Masochism Tango." (For Amy's point of view, read Chapter 7, Little Black Dress).

Dan’s an Iceman.  Always has been, always will be.  Other idiots might lose their cool over momentary distractions and minor disappointments, but not him – that’s just not who he is.

It’s a valuable quality in the Veep’s office, which is generally a whirl of some kind of chaos – that’s why Selina relies on him, that’s why Amy relies on him (even if she won’t admit it).

So he does not get ‘worked up’ because Amy is bringing some pretend-date to Catherine Meyer’s twenty-first, no matter what Gary says.  (No matter what anyone says).

So, she’ll go on a date with some manchild she dug up from somewhere.  He’s only going to disappoint her, and he won’t understand her, and she’s going to get bored inside of five minutes.  It’s kind of cute, the way she’s pretending it’s a _real_ date – she even has Sue fooled.  (It’s…interesting that Sue knows so much about ‘Ed Webster,’ whoever he is.  It makes Dan wonder what else she knows).

It’s _such_ bullshit…and the second Lurch from the Addams family walks into the office, Dan knows what’s going on.  Ed has probably never gotten within touching distance of a woman like Amy before, he’ll probably be so overjoyed at getting the opportunity to lay hands on her he’ll burst into tears before they even have sex.  It’s flat out insulting that she would pretend to prefer spending time with an overgrown nerd from Saved by the Bell than him.

It’s more than insulting, it’s pathetic.  No one, no one seriously believes it.

Besides, it’s not like she needs the company.  He would have taken her for dinner, he would have spent the party with her, it’s what they always do.  (Dan doesn’t know when, exactly, he fell into the pattern of being Amy’s default escort to these things, but it’s really the most efficient arrangement.  He’s the person she’d rather spend time with after all).

Ed is basically invisible, and Ed is boring, and Ed…is way too tall for Amy, he’ll accidentally fall on her in bed, and her lungs will be crushed, and she’ll have to spend weeks in hospital to recover, and then she’ll be sorry.

She’s clearly flustered, and nervous, and that just pisses him off more.  (She wasn’t like that when she dated _him_ ).  (Or, maybe she was, but she hid it).  (Either way, it’s just more proof that she shouldn’t be wasting her time on this goon).

And then she comes out in the dress.  The tight, black dress, that’s all too familiar, and so what if it’s her favourite?  It's the black dress she’d worn for _Dan_ , once upon a time, the black dress he pulled off so he could get his mouth on her, and she’s wearing it for Ed fucking Webster?

She doesn’t even _like_ him. 

Dan knows what it looks like when Amy likes someone.  When she _really_ likes someone.  And it doesn’t involve nervous laughs and awkward hugs and transparently fake attempts to pretend things that aren’t even remotely funny _are_. 

When Amy likes someone, really likes someone, she _glows_.  She can’t stop smiling, she can’t stop laughing, she can’t stop touching him.  She doesn’t want to.  Dan knows.  He remembers. 

So, he’s not in the least bit fooled by this pathetic little charade.  (Though everyone else seems to be).  (But maybe that’s only because they’ve never seen her with someone she really liked).  (Because maybe, maybe she’s only _really_ liked one person, maybe she doesn’t meet people who inspire that feeling all that often, maybe the rest of the team have never seen it, because it’s never happened except once).  (Dan’s always known he was special).

He’s not going to lose his temper, there’s not a chance of that, but he comes close when Mike taunts him about it on the drive over to the National Gallery.  Amy’s pressed up against him, though he thinks she’s trying not to be, and his lungs feel full of her perfume and the clean scent of her hair, and if Mike says one more thing, Dan might actually punch him. 

(Amy pretends she doesn’t get what Mike’s talking about, pursuing her red lips in irritation with both of them, and she can’t possibly be that fucking blind, can she?) 

When they finally arrive, Amy makes a beeline for Selina, and Dan joins Mike at the bar.  If Dan buys him a drink, maybe he’ll shut up, and a strong shot of whiskey will go a long way towards making the evening more tolerable.

At least, that was the plan.

Unfortunately, Jonah joins them, and he is, as usual, more irritating and hard to shift than a case of pubic lice.  He’s looking to score, and he wants Dan to be his wingman, and Dan is just…not in the mood.  (Waste his time on a horde of teenage girls?  No.  They don’t _know_ anything).

“Come on,” Jonah says, “They’re not jailbait, Dan, but some of them actually look like they could be.”

“You know,” Dan says, watching Amy dance with fucking Ed and considering a second drink, “When you’re arrested for molesting young girls, this is the kind of thing I’ll tell the police in your character reference.”

“Oh, like you have such refined fucking standards.  You’d fuck a lizard if you thought it would get you ahead.  And didn’t you go after Amy when she was practically a baby?”

Mike looks at Jonah curiously.  “She didn’t tell you that.”

“We used to date, Mike, I know her in ways you never will.”

Dan takes another sip of his drink, as Mike grimaces.  “Don’t.  You don’t have enough experience of women spending time with you who _aren’t_ coerced to know the difference, but that wasn’t dating, that was extortion.”

“Just you wait, I am going to leave tonight with the most beautiful woman in the room, and you –”

“No,” Dan says.  “You’re not.”

Jonah turns to follow his gaze, and when he looks back, there’s a grin on his face that's uncomfortable to look at.  “Who’s the tall guy?”

“Some friend of Amy’s,” Mike said. 

“I knew she was lying, I knew she liked that I’m tall.”

(No, Dan thinks, she doesn’t.  She liked that _he_ was tall, but that was because Dan had the sense to maintain a minimum safe distance unless specifically requested.  Given the way Jonah loomed over everyone, and especially women, Dan was pretty sure Amy would happily push him away from her basically always – with a cattle prod, if she was allowed).

“I seem to remember,” Mike said, “that Amy said the only possible reason she’d ever date you again was because it would give her an opportunity to strangle you – and since you’re too tall for her to reach, you can safely assume you’re _never_ getting back in there again.”

“I like that she’s small,” Jonah said, smiling again, “She’s just the right height to –”

“Shut the fuck up Jonah.  Jesus fucking Christ, I’ve known Amy since she was twenty years old, I do not need to hear this shit.”

Jonah looks at Dan for back-up – which is not forthcoming – and finally leaves.  A moment later, Mike follows him, drawn by the irresistible sweet siren call of free food.  Which is fine by him.  He doesn’t _want_ to talk to anyone – and since Amy can’t be bothered to do her goddamn job, _someone_ needs to keep an eye on twitter.

Eventually the barman hands him the bottle, and Dan stays in place for some time, downing the occasional shot and reading snide news stories on politico.  He’s longing for the budget deal to be agreed, so he can get the hell out of there and go, oh, anywhere else, and Mike getting bizarrely concerned over how much he’s drank does not help with anything.

He can just about manage to applaud for Catherine’s birthday, and when Selina gives them the all clear, he’s out of there.  He goes home, picks out his shirt and suit for the next morning, and falls into a deep sleep.  He didn’t even _notice_ Ed kissing Amy on the dancefloor.

 

* * *

 

When he wakes up, his head feels at least half a size bigger than it should.  He’s overslept, and he barely manages to get himself up and dressed in time.  Still, Selina nailing the budget deal is going to be front page news, so he drags himself into work in time to do the paper review.

Where Amy isn’t.

Amy’s _never_ late for work.  Amy works harder than he does.  Amy’s usually been in the office for the best part of an hour before he arrives, and _he’s_ the one who convinces her to at least drink a cup of coffee or something before the real madness begins.

He ignores Sue’s greeting and dives into the day’s papers.  When Amy arrives, in a flurry, twenty minutes later, he ignores her apologies (oh, she overslept, _did_ she?) and keeps reading.  His head is pounding, though, so a moment later he stands and walks to the coffee machine.

Amy’s clearly had the same thought because she bumps into him, and suddenly there’s one of those awkward moments where, no matter which way he turns, he’s turning the wrong way, and his arms keep colliding with hers, and it seems to take far longer than it should for him to get properly away from her.

“Oh my god,” she says, “How much did you have to drink last night?  It’s like navigating around an octopus.  Sit down.”

“Getting me coffee, are you?” 

“If it makes you less insufferable, sure.”

He’s still so close to her he can see down her blouse – which, normally, he wouldn’t look, that's creepy, but there’s a bruise on her collarbone, the kind of bruise left by a kiss, and Dan can’t take his eyes off it.  Why the fuck would she ever let that human eel touch her?

He sits, and Amy hands him a mug of coffee before perching on the other side of his desk – her favourite spot – and opening the Washington Post.  There’s a whole two minutes of silence before Sue says, “So, how was your date with Ed?”

“It was fine,” Amy says, not looking up from her paper.

“Just fine?” Sue asks, and the way she’s looking at him makes him uncomfortable.

“Yeah… it’s not like there were many surprises, I have known Ed for years.”

“You never mentioned that before.”

“He runs one of Selina’s PAC offices, I have to check in with them from time to time, so we’d go for coffee.  Or drinks, you know, if it was late.”

“Oh, I see.”

“You see what?”

“He knew you’d freak out if he made a thing of it, so he was stealth-dating you.”

Dan focuses studiously on the New York Times, pretending like he’s not listening to every word. 

“I don’t want to talk about this here,” Amy says. “And, no, he wasn’t, that’s not a thing.”

“You mean he didn’t constantly hang around, suggesting drinks or dinner or whatever, so that he could sleep with you, but you’d never actually have been dating?”

“No!” Amy says.  “He’s not like that – I mean I don’t think – maybe when I go up to Boston I’ll discover he has five dead girlfriends hanging in a closet somewhere, but… what you’re talking about is some next-level, Machiavellian, manipulative...”  Her voice trails off, and Dan doesn’t look up.  He knows _exactly_ what Sue’s implying, even if Amy is going to pretend she doesn’t, and he’s not going to dignify her insinuations by getting annoyed. 

He more feels than sees Amy looking at him, and then back at Sue, before she finally finishes her sentence.  “I’ll probably discover he’s some kind of shit after another couple of dates, that’s usually what happens, but… he’s not _that_ kind of shit.  I’m pretty sure.”

“He does seem too nervous to be able to pull that off,” Sue says.  “But I’m glad you had a good time.”

“Well, like, I said, he’s probably some kind of shit.  But even when I told him we’d have to tag along on ‘Andy’ and Selina’s dinner tonight, he still wanted to come for drinks, which…”

She’s smiling this stupid, shy, girly little smile, and Dan wants to shake her.  Of _course_ Ed wants to come for drinks – there was a slim chance he’d get to fuck Amy, and most men would go a hell of a lot further and fare a hell of a lot worse for that.  Doesn’t she know _anything_?

“So when are you going to Boston?”

“I’m not sure – it depends when I can get a whole day and night free, which, at the moment… just have to wait and see.”

“Well, make sure to bring us back some cream pie.”

“I’ll do my best,” Amy says, and Dan doesn’t look up, doesn’t react, he is not interested in her pretend little fling.

He is even more not-interested when he finds out that Ed is some buddy-comedy-loving Quaker.  No way on earth he manages to keep Amy interested for more than a week, tops.  And if that’s what she wants to waste her time on, fine, it’s not like Dan doesn’t have options, he’s going to focus on developing his career, on getting away from the constant shitshow that is Selina, the way Amy _should_ be. 

He’s the one Danny Chung really wants, after all.

(By the time Amy makes her trip to Boston, they’ve recorded the interview with Janet Ryland, and they manage a whole three days of stability.  Dan staffs Selina in Amy’s place on the Friday evening, and it’s fine.

She does bring back a cream pie, and she cuts slices for each of them on the Monday morning, taking the smallest for herself.  When she refuses to give Jonah a slice, he reaches over her shoulder, ignoring her irritated sigh, and just takes one, saying, “Where’d you get the pie Amy?”

“I got it in Boston when I was visiting Ed this weekend.”

“Who?”

“Ed, Jonah, you’ve met him.”

“Who?”

“Ed – he’s tall too, but actually looks like a fully formed human being, remember?”

“Who?”

“Ed, my boyfriend, you’ve met him, why are you being… like this?”

That wipes the grin off Jonah’s face, and he stops looking at Dan, trying to share the joke, and mumbles something about not knowing Amy was serious about him, before lumbering out of their office.  Amy turns a baffled expression on Dan.  “What the fuck was that about?”

“No idea,” he says, and turns the conversation to Selina’s brunch with donors, and who might be attending.  He wants to see if he can reasonably duck out of it for Danny Chung’s speech).

(When he sees her there, it’s a kind of triumph – he _knew_ she wasn’t distracted because of Ed fucking Webster, and now he knows that, whenever he leaves Selina’s office, he can take Amy with him.)

(He doesn’t think too much about why that’s what he wants).

(He's an Iceman.)


	15. And Then There Was One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missing scene from 5.10 - Dan finds out about Buddy.

A week before the inauguration, Amy brings a suitcase to work, and leaves it by her desk. 

Dan trips over it when he follows her back to her office after their legacy meeting with Selina.  He’d been telling her about his tv offers – she didn’t seem particularly (remotely) interested, but he wants her to know all the same.

“Stealing some White House furniture for the memories?” he asks, once he’s regained his balance.

“No.”

“Then what?”  Amy sits at her desk, opening her laptop, so Dan persists.  “What’s it for?”

She heaves a deep, frustrated sigh, as though the question is an utterly unforgiveable imposition.  “I’m going away.”

“Thanks genius.  Since when?”

“Since Christmas, I told Ben I need some time to…”

“Think about the shattered remnants of your career now that you’re being kicked out of the White House?  If you’re nice to Candi Caruso maybe she’ll let you be her assistant.”

Amy’s still not looking at him, and she says, in a rather flat tone of voice, “Are you done?”

“Where are you going ‘to think’?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but Nevada.”

“Got fond memories of our time there?”

Amy meets his eyes then, and there’s something off.  She doesn’t raise her voice, she doesn’t shift closer to him or point at him with her finger or anything and it feels wrong.  “No,” she says.  “I don’t.  Was there anything else?”

Dan feels… off balance somehow.  He’s used to Amy’s anger, her constant irritation with him, her stormy insults and poking jokes, but this… this is something else.  “Well how long is this little trip down memory lane going to last?”

“I’ll be back the day before the inauguration,” she says, “And it’s nothing of the kind.  If that’s what you’re looking for, you still have Sophie’s number, I’m sure.  Now I have a ton of work to do before I catch my flight, so if you could leave please.”

She starts to type, staring at the screen instead of at him, and… Dan knows it’s an act, it has to be an act.  They’ve known each other for years, and Amy has never once managed to be indifferent to him, not even when she wanted to be.  But she doesn’t look up, and finally he says the words he’s sure will cut through her façade.  “If you’re torturing yourself because of Selina… you’re – well, we’re – the only reason she ever got within touching distance of the presidency.”

Amy doesn’t look up, but her lips tighten, ever so slightly, so he knows he’s gotten to her.  “I don’t need _you_ to tell me that, Dan.  And I think I asked you to leave?”

“Fine,” he says, and does so, though since he wants to piss her off, he takes his time.  (He was being _nice_ after all).

He barely sees her for the rest of the day – he’s trying to pull together some remarks for Selina on Inauguration Day (not that it’s _likely_ she’ll be asked to speak, but she’s so stunned by the loss Dan’s not certain she could manage vowel sounds if she _was_ asked, so it’s better to be prepared).  He’s reading them over with Mike when he sees Amy trotting through the corridor with her suitcase, checking her phone as she goes.

She sticks her head in the door – to remind them to include a thank you to Catherine (for what, Dan wants to ask, but he knows she’s right, the press would be on it immediately if Catherine was ‘snubbed’) – and as she’s leaving, Mike says, “Have fun with Buddy, Amer.” 

Amy looks disconcerted, and says, “Thanks Mike, I…I’ll…” she darts a glance at Dan, and continues, “I’ll try.”

“Who’s _Buddy_?”

She ignores him.  “I’m going to miss my flight.”

And then she actually runs out of the room.  When Dan turns to Mike to pursue the point, Mike looks flat unnerved.  “Who is Buddy?”

“He’s… the guy, the guy Amy’s seeing.  From Nevada.”

“She didn’t start seeing anyone in Nevada – I was _there_.”

“No,” Mike says, “I think… I think it was later.  I don’t know how long she’s been with him exactly but – you really didn’t know about this?”

Dan doesn’t bother responding to the question.  “So that’s who she’s going out to Nevada to see, this fucker?”

“I think so.”  Mike looks like he’d rather be behind the White House podium.  “She didn’t tell me or anything, I heard her telling Sue… it’s, eh, the Secretary of State.”

“Since when?”

Amy’s been pissed with him for weeks – months, technically – about Sophie, where did she get off, if she was seeing some bolo-tie wearing dipshit from the last flyover state?

“I’m not sure, I didn’t ask… he came to the Christmas Ball, I remember that.  Everyone was saying how weird it was, he’s never come before, but… guess we know why.”

“Yeah, guess so.”  Dan says, and returns to looking at the remarks he’s working on. 

Is it strange that Amy didn’t tell him?  He always had the decency to tell her when he was fucking someone else (not that she ever seemed to particularly appreciate it).  And the moment he knew, she’d practically run out of the building.

Because what, she thought he’d get pissed off or something?  He doesn’t give a shit, she can run around with all the wet-eared cowboys she wants, it’s not as though she’s ever going to like any of them. 

He lasts forty-five minutes before he texts her.

She doesn’t reply.  And she doesn’t reply the next day, or the day after that, or the day after that. 

It’s only four days in, when he sends her a message about Jonah’s new stable of ludicrous interns, that Amy finally responds.  And her voice, when he picks up the phone, is _pissed_. 

“Amy,” he says, smiling, just a little.

“Dick for brains, stop texting me.”

“Lovely to hear from you too.”

“Dan, I don’t really expect that you’ll understand this, you would need to have a soul, but the whole purpose of this trip was for me to get away from…”

“From what?”

“Everything – and that doesn’t work if you won’t stop fucking texting me.”

“Missing me already?”

“No,” Amy says, and she sounds more passionate, more engaged with him, than she has in weeks.  “I don’t.  So stop it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I disturbing _Buddy_?”

“No.  You’re disturbing _me_.  And, I know you don’t give two shits, but if you keep this up, I am _this close_ to blocking your number.”

“Sure you are.”

“I’m not fucking joking.”  There’s something in her voice then, it might be tears, it might be anger, he’s not sure (he wishes he could see her face).  “I’m trying to think about things, and you keep –”

“What’s to think about?  You’re going to get snapped up by some Governor or Senator with ambitions, and you’ll go from there, it’s easy.  I can give you Danny Chung’s number if that would help.”

She takes a deep breath, and Dan wonders for a moment where she is – is she in _Buddy’s_ house?  Is she hiding out in his bathroom so she can yell at Dan?  Has she left Buddy’s bed for _Dan_?  “That’s not what I mean,” Amy finally says.  “Cut it out, I don’t want to hear from you again.”

“Fine, Jesus,” he says, rolling his eyes.  “But since you’re back before the inauguration, come help me prep for the CNN broadcast.”

Amy snorts.  “No.”

“It’ll be fun,” he says, trying to sound wheedling.  “I’ll even let you get that stupid cheeseless pizza you pretend to like.  And you can come to the press ball with me.”

“Let me think – no.”

“ _Why_ not?”

“Because I don’t _want_ to, that’s why.”

“Is it because you can’t dance, are you scared I’ll break your toes?  Amy, I’m a good lead, I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

There’s a long moment of silence – he can hear Amy breathing on the other end of the phone, and after a moment it strikes him that, maybe, that wasn’t the best choice of words.  She sounds incredibly…weary, when she finally speaks.  “Dan,” she says, “I don’t know what else to say.  Good luck with the broadcast, I’m sure it’s your fucking fantasy, and I just hope it…lives up to it.”

“You know it will baby.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll see you when you get back to DC?”

“I guess maybe you will.”

She hangs up then. 

And since she’d seemed genuinely angry with him, he doesn’t text or call her again, not until he knows she’s back in Washington (being followed by that human fucking Labrador).

But Amy never replies, never picks up, and it hits him, eventually, that it’s been months, and he hasn’t even seen her. 

And then he hears about a gubernatorial campaign in Nevada that’s hotting up.


	16. What Doesn't Kill You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-ep for 6.03. Amy comes home.

What Doesn’t Kill You

Amy’s plane lands in Washington Dulles shortly after 10.00 in the morning.  When she finally switches her phone back on it takes a full five minutes for all the notifications to come through.  Top most is a text message from her mother, asking when she and Buddy will be in D.C. again, which she decides to ignore for the time being.

She puts her phone back in her pocket and waits for her checked bag, trying not to think too much. 

She knows leaving Nevada was the right thing to do – she has no doubts about that – she only wishes she’d had the sense to do it weeks ago, before everything became so _public_. 

But she’s not sure what to do next, and she feels like if she thinks about it too much she may actually scream right in the middle of the airport. 

So she doesn’t.  She collects her bag, and gets a shuttle home, and stares out the window, refusing to make eye contact with any of the other passengers.  She doesn’t _want_ to talk to anyone.

Buddy hasn’t called.

She’s not _surprised_ or anything.  In a weird way, he was probably even more relieved than she was that she’d finally accepted reality and left.

But it still stings, just a little, that he hasn’t.  All his talk of loving her and caring for her and wanting to be with her, was worth less than his ring.

Which Amy had left behind. 

Not because she was such a good person, or whatever reason people usually gave for those things.  Because she wanted to wipe the whole experience from her memory.  She’d also left the cowboy boots.

It was surprising actually, how little she’d brought with her when she moved to Nevada.  Packing her bag had taken no time at all, and since Buddy had decided to get drunk rather than confront her (she knew because her deputy on the campaign had called to inform of her this fact, with an injured tone of voice), she’d made it to the airport in time to book a ticket on the last flight out.

It was more melodramatic than Amy usually liked her break-ups to be, but whatever… it was worth it to be away from that state and those people and the moron she’d agreed to marry.

(She almost wished Buddy _had_ confronted her, because getting to tell him exactly what she thought of him would have been cathartic.  There’s a ball of rage sitting behind her ribs, just waiting to be unleashed.  How _dare_ he?  She’d posed for the cameras, she’d kept that simpering smile fixed on her face, she’d let _Dan_ taunt her about it in front of the whole country, and then Buddy trashed it all.  For nothing more than some bullshit lines she’d spouted to make them – no, to make him – seem loving and normal and decent).

When she gets home finally, she feels something unclench in her shoulders.  Her apartment is still there – she’s been Air B’n’Bing, with her mother acting as landlord – and it is such a profound relief to be in a space where no one is looking at her, no one is calling her, where she can be completely, actually _alone_.

She takes a deep breath, swallowing the blessed, beautiful silence, letting it fill her up.  Everything is where it should be, everything is clean, and the floor is solid beneath her feet.

Amy showers, quickly, and pulls on the softest pair of pyjamas she can find, before curling up on her sofa.  She hadn’t slept on the flight, and she’s reached the point of exhaustion where the tiredness starts to feel like a drug, so she covers herself in a blanket before starting to scan her notifications.

Which are exactly what she expects.  Buddy’s withdrawal from the campaign, and her abandonment of him, has gone viral.  Were she one whit less exhausted, she’d be horrified to receive thirty-two google alerts for her own name, but…she can’t quite find it within herself to care.  It’s not like she hasn’t been the media’s punching bag before.

Her eyes are getting heavy, so she puts off reviewing the text messages and whatsapps and everything else until later.  The stillness in her apartment feels profound – rich, like being inside a giant bell that’s waiting to strike – and she lets herself relax, finally, and sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

She’s woken, an hour or two later (she thinks – the overnight flight and lack of sleep have messed with her body clock), by her house phone ringing.  Or rather ringing, and then ringing again, and then again. 

Amy picks up the phone and answers it without opening her eyes.  She really _doesn’t_ want to have this conversation now, but at the same time…it has to be done some time, and if she leverages her exhaustion and her long journey, maybe she can cut it short.

“Hi Mom, you saw the news?”

“I am the news, remember?”

It’s so strange… so out of place, for Dan to be calling her, that she says the very first thing that comes to mind.  “What?”  Her brain feels fogged and stupid with sleep. 

“So you’re back in DC?”

“How do you even _have_ this number?” 

(The only reason Amy even kept a house number was to comfort her parents, who felt it was a necessity of adult life – no one else ever called her on it, knowing her cell was the best place to get her).

“Oh, I have my ways,” Dan says, chuckling slightly at his own brilliance.  He sounds demonic.  “And you weren’t answering your phone.  How long are you going to keep this blanking me thing going anyway?”

“Most people can take a hint.”

“How do you think _Buddy’s_ feeling right now?  That was cold, Ames, and I should know – I got to watch the video like six times this morning.  In front of national news cameras?  I didn’t know you had it in you.  At least when I dumped my –”

She hangs up on him. 

She’s not even sure she meant to do it, but she just _couldn’t_ listen to him anymore.  If he was there in person she’d at least have the satisfaction of punching in his perfect teeth, but having to hear the smug self-satisfaction in his voice for one more second might actually have killed her, and she refuses to die because of Dan Egan.

But while she may have got rid of him, he has effectively killed any chance she might have had of sleeping again.  As always, Dan’s presence, even only his voice, fills her with frustrated energy.  She can feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, and she flexes and unflexes her fingers several times.  She wants to tear his hair out, and would, if it were possible to do it without having to be in a room with him.

She sighs, and decides that, since sleep is impossible, she might as well call her mother and get it over with.  Her parents had been...less enthusiastic about Buddy than she’d expected, though they’d been polite (of course).  Buddy was the first boyfriend she’d purposefully brought home in years – her parents had met Ed, and, most unfortunately, Dan, but those had been accidental – and it had been weirdly disappointing to realise that they didn’t like him.  Her Dad, in particular, didn’t warm to him, and Amy had been too angry to ask why.  (Wasn’t this what they _wanted_?)

She’s expecting to be berated and questioned and blamed – if only she hadn’t been the worst fiancé ever, maybe Buddy wouldn’t have… so the sympathetic tone in her Mom’s voice completely throws her, and before she knows what’s happened, her voice has started to wobble.  “I know it’s not what you want for me, but I just couldn’t stay out there any longer, I couldn’t.”

“That’s all right sweetheart.  He just wasn’t good enough for you.”  The words hit her, hard, in the chest, and Amy takes a deep, shaking breath, as her mother continues.  “He shouldn’t have put you through all of that.  Are you sure you want to be alone?  Why don’t you come home tonight, stay in your old room.”  For a moment, for a whole moment, she actually thinks about it.  “Sophie and the kids are here, we can all be together.”

“No,” Amy says, her voice steadier.  “I think I just need to…sleep.”

“All right, darling.  Why don’t we go for lunch tomorrow, and we can talk about it, just us girls.”

She knows her mother too well not to realise that Sophie will almost certainly be there too, but, with luck, and after a proper night’s sleep, she’ll be better equipped to deal with her. 

There was a time when Sophie would have been the first – maybe even the only – person she’d call in a situation like this. 

(When she and Ed had broken up, she’d called Sophie from the crappy New Hampshire hotel she’d been staying in ahead of the primary, and drank three tequila shots while ranting about how she wasn’t even _sorry_ , he was boring and he didn’t even _fit_ in her bed and he had stupid giant white fucking paddle feet, and she would rather donate her eyeballs to science than ever have to watch another buddy comedy.  Sophie had laughed and asked, “Well if all that’s true, why aren’t you glad?” 

Amy drank another shot of tequila, and then sighed.  “It just pisses me off – he kept saying what a terrible girlfriend I am, how I didn’t pay attention to him, but…”

“But?”

“You know I’m the youngest person, ever, to run a national campaign?” (Dan was the next youngest, but she didn’t want to think about that)

“So?”

“He never even said he was proud of me.  And his feet are _stupid_.”  She’d added the second sentence on so she’d sound less upset, less hurt, but somehow she didn’t think Sophie was fooled.

“That’s right, they are stupid.  Now go to bed – I’ve got to get back to work.”

It was only when she’d hung up that Amy realised just how small the hotel bar actually was, and that perhaps she’d been gesticulating a little _too_ much, because her coworkers were staring at her (well, Gary was staring at her, the rest of them had the good sense to look away).  She’d tossed her head, and stared at her phone for ten minutes, checking the headlines on twitter and hoping they’d forget about it.

Of course, they didn’t, being enormous gossips to a man, but Mike was the one who approached her.  Which she was glad of the second she tried to get off her stool.  Having eaten nothing but snacks all day, the tequila had gone even more to her head than usual, and without Mike supporting her, she might not have made it all the way to the lift without embarrassing herself.

And the next morning, Dan had told her what a good job she was doing.)

But that was all shit now.

So Amy started to trawl through her phone, ignoring the interview requests (she never wants to do another on-air interview in her life, if she can help it) and job offers for now.  She writes an email to her campaign deputy, explaining the steps that will need to be taken to wind up the campaign finances, and another to the Nevada Democratic Committee, officially pulling Buddy Calhoun as their candidate (it’s a stupid formality, but it has to be done). 

She doesn’t particularly _want_ to do these things, but unlike everything else in her inbox, they were things she _could_ do, almost on auto-pilot. 

Selina has also sent her a series of text messages about the possible location of her library, the self-centredness of which is weirdly comforting.  At least someone still thinks of her as competent, and capable of giving useful advice.

By the time she’s finished with all of this, it’s late afternoon, and her stomach rumbling startles her into getting off the sofa.  It’s the first time in she can’t remember how long that she’s felt genuinely hungry. 

In something of a daze, she dressed and put on make-up, and then ordered an uber to take her to her local Thai place. 

When she arrives, she finds it’s closed down – it’s been that long since she’s been back – and her only options are barbecue or Japanese.  Not trusting herself around fries, she opts for the Japanese restaurant, and orders chicken katsu curry.  Though part of her wants to cram it into her mouth as fast as possible, she restrains the urge, making herself savour the food, take her time over each bite.  (When she worked for Selina she never had time to think too much about food – usually spending most of each meal arguing with Dan – and she knows it would easy to fall into bad habits.  She reminds herself, forcefully, that she doesn’t _want_ to binge, it’s just her fucked up brain playing tricks on her).

Once she’s full, she pays the bill and makes her way to the bar across the street.  It being a Tuesday evening, it’s not exactly busy, but that suits Amy fine.

She doesn’t want to talk – to anyone – but some traditions have to be maintained. 

Her first real break-up, Sophie had taken her out for drinks and encouraged her to kiss random dudes, and it had become a habit.  Not that Amy always cooperated (half the guys Sophie pointed out looked that they couldn’t scratch their ears and hum simultaneously), but, all the same, it had become part of the process.  (Until Dan ruined it).

Since she’s alone, with no Sophie to take her home, she orders a margarita instead of a tequila shot.  The salt burns her lips, but it’s good, and so she orders two more.  Who the fuck cares what the bartender thinks?  If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll think nothing but ‘What a pretty lady, I will bring her her drinks first so she gives me a good tip.’

She loses herself in online speculation about the upcoming Italian elections (and she thought the American system was fucked), and makes her way through her drinks.  Every once in a while she notices some DC douchebag trying to catch her eye, and she rolls her eyes each time.  (She doesn’t have the energy left to soothe these guys’ egos – fuck them.  If she wants an hour of conversation about how they might possibly work next to a Senator who’s been an incumbent since the 1950s, or once served the Attorney-General coffee, she’ll just shoot herself in the head first and save everyone the trouble).

There had been a time, once, when that kind of talk had impressed her, but she’d been young (so fucking young), and wide-eyed and stupid.  Nothing took the glamour out of power like knowing how little could actually be done with it.

The bartender has just set down her fourth drink, when she hears her name.  It’s Will, Furlong’s assistant, standing a few feet away and staring at her with sad eyes.  (She doesn’t know if they’re sad because of her, or because they’re always sad.  She doesn’t really care).

“Will,” she says, “Haven’t killed Furlong yet?”

He shakes his head.  “Things could be worse – Ben and Kent are working for Jonah.”  He pauses, like he’s waiting for her to respond.  “It’s good to see you, Amy.”

“I’m sure you’ve all seen more than enough of me lately.”

He looks down at her – he has a kind face, and it gives Amy a pang (because how could you even tell, any more, if someone was kind or not?)

“I was sorry to see that.”

“Don’t be,” she snorts, “I’m not.  I should have walked out of there months ago, I don’t know what I was… But Buddy’s made it so no one will ever want to touch me again, so… at least there’s that.  It wasn’t completely unproductive.  And two failed campaigns under my belt in less than a year – not everyone can say that.”

“He didn’t seem like he was making you happy.”

“Happy?” she says, and the cynicism in her voice is so sharp Will flinches.  “That’s not a thing.”

“Did you only just get back from Nevada?”

“This morning.  And tequila with my sister is my break-up tradition, or it was.”  Will makes a question face, and she adds, “Until Dan ruined it.”  And the words come pouring out of her like wine from a bottle, not a chance of stopping them.  “When Sophie took me out after he… after we… after it ended, he was there, and he kept grinning at me, and then he kissed me, even though the whole point was to kiss someone – or fuck someone, that’s what Sophie was always suggesting – who _wasn’t_ him.  And then Sophie decided she had a crush on him, and every time we met up after that she wanted… anyway, she got him in the end.  He ruins _everything_.”

Will looks horrified, and a vengeful part of Amy thinks that’s good.  She wants _someone_ to feel as tangled up and angry and exhausted by Dan as she does, even if that’s not actually possible.  She gulps down her drink, as Will says, “You know, Amy, I always thought you two -”

“No you _didn’t_.”  The crack in her voice is hideous.  “No one thought that, no one would be stupid enough to think that, only a brain-damaged, moronic, fool of a person would think that.”

She’s going to cry.  Right here, in front of Will – and probably in front of Furlong – she’s going to actually cry.  Fuck everything.

“I’m sorry,” Will says, like any of this is _his_ fault.

“No, no, it’s fine, that was… you did nothing.”

She picks up her handbag and _runs_ out of the bar, hoping to god no one can see her desperate rush, but not actually caring enough to slow down. 

When she gets home, she rests her back against the door, and slides down it, finally resting her head on her knees. 

And then she cries.

How could she have been so stupid? 

She’d run all the way to Nevada – she’d planned to _marry_ a man who didn’t really like her, who found her abrasive and embarrassing, who didn’t even enjoy sex with her unless she play-acted like some fucking geisha, and for what? 

To get away from Dan.

Had she really given him that kind of power over her?  Had she actually fucked her career and her personal life and her reputation, all so she wouldn’t have to endure Dan mocking her anymore? 

Who the hell was he, to have that kind of impact on her fucking life?  Nothing but an over-tanned over-promoted human _parasite_.  Nothing but an empty suit around an emptier soul.  Nothing but a sociopathic leech with nice ties.

And Amy’s worse, worse than he is, because she misses him so much she can’t bear it.  Whenever she heard his voice, whenever she caught a glimpse of him on tv, she wanted to...be where he is so much it almost hurt to breathe.  She’d trade every day of the last year with Buddy, for one evening drinking with Dan, for one genuine smile from him, for one of his stupid, arrogant jokes, and oh, she hates herself for it.

Amy spends hours it feels like, sitting on the floor, crying into her knees and hugging herself. 

She’d let Dan chase her out of her life.  She’d run away from _her own life_ , and she can’t even really blame him, because he certainly hadn’t meant to do it.  (Which didn’t mean he actually gave a shit, or had even noticed, just that it hadn’t been his specific plan).

She’s in love with him, and it feels like everyone, everyone can see it, can see the Scarlet Letter of “This Woman is a Goddamn Moron Who Cannot Face Reality” on her face.   

It’s not going away.  It might never go away - she might have to feel this way for the rest of her life.

And he’s not worth it.  He’s never been worth it.

When she finally, finally manages to pick herself off the floor, her eyes feel bruised and her butt-cheeks are numb, but she’s made one decision.  She is not giving Dan Egan any more influence over her fucking life – she’s going to go where she wants to go and do what she wants to do, and if he says _one word_ about any of it, she’s not going to run away, she’s not going to let it hit her, she’s going to look at him and remember that he’s not worth grinding under her shoe. 

It’s time to take back what’s hers.

(And if Buddy Calhoun ever comes near her again, she won’t be held responsible for her actions, because, despite stiff competition, he is almost certainly the worst thing that’s ever happened to her, and she is never, never going to forgive him).

When she wakes up the next morning, Dan has sent her a link to the CBS news package about her dumping Buddy – which she deletes, immediately.  Why would she inflict his smug face on herself first thing in the morning?

And Selina… Selina is coming to Washington for the funeral of a Supreme Court Justice, and wants to know if Amy can meet her beforehand.

It starts now.


	17. All Grown Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-show. Amy is made Chief-of-Staff.

All Grown Up

Selina offers her the post of Chief of Staff three days after the election. 

Amy knows she deserves it.  She had, virtually single-handedly, forced Selina to stay in the limelight after Super Tuesday – she was the one who’d had the initial meetings with Hughes’ teams (exploratory meetings, like the exploratory meetings they were having with half a dozen other Senator and Governor’s teams) – and she was the one who had kept Selina from ripping Kent Davidson’s beard out in a fit of rage.

Selina’s former Chief of Staff had departed after the primary meltdown – following a blazing row with Selina that Amy definitely had not overheard – and Selina had been so beaten down by the loss, and then so overwhelmed by the hyperactive speed of the campaign, that she hadn’t got round to replacing him.

Which suited Amy just fine.  If anything, it gave her a chance to prove herself – to demonstrate that you didn’t have to be advanced into late middle-aged white manhood to be good at the job – and she knows Selina… be there for her in her time of trouble and she will never, never let you go.

So, she’s not surprised.  She’d hoped – she’d thought it would be a sensible move – she’d honestly assessed the potential competition, and decided she was Selina’s best option.  But she’d known that she couldn’t necessarily rely on Selina to make the same calculation – Selina had come up through the ranks when politics was (even more) a man’s game, after all, and she might not like the idea of having a woman in such a prominent post. 

One way for a woman to demonstrate she was a serious politician was to surround herself with men, and Selina knew it.

So Amy had hoped, and crossed her fingers, but she hadn’t dared _expect_ it.

But Selina had sat her down, and talked about the role they were expected to play in the new administration (it looked like clean jobs might finally happen), and the importance of having a Chief of Staff in place to help manage the transition, and it had gradually dawned on Amy that, yes, it was actually happening. 

When she leaves Selina’s office she’s so happy she’s almost giddy… she can’t stop smiling, and Gary looks at her like he thinks she’s drugged. 

She has to attend a drinks event with the Hughes people, something she’d been dreading – the new President-elect seems to surround himself only with men of a certain, disappointed age, and almost of none of them were capable of speaking to Amy without obvious condescension.  They think she’s so _cute_ and it’s infuriating (it was her suggestions that put them in a position to win Florida after all).

But it’s a thank you to the campaign team, as well as an opportunity for Hughes to announce his transition team, so obviously she has to go.  And with such good news to buoy her up, she’s almost looking forward to it.

Or at least, she’s looking forward to it until she walks in and sees Jonah Ryan.

(He’d gotten drunk on election night, and tried to kiss her when the Ohio result came in.  The _only_ good thing about him being a skyscraper taller than her, was that he couldn’t reach her mouth unless she wanted him to… but it still pissed her off).

Rather than face that hideousness, Amy makes a beeline for the bar – and Mike, as it turns out.  He’s gratifyingly unsurprised at her promotion, saying he has the press release booted up and ready to go… and, upon Amy’s prodding, opens his laptop then and there and sends it.

They both grab glasses of champagne to celebrate, and shortly afterwards Amy is picked up by Ben Cafferty, who introduces her to numerous White House officials she’s going to need to work with (she’s going to be working up close with the _White House_ , she always knew it would be worth it in the end), including someone who is definitely not the President-elect’s proposed new head of the EPA. 

They all look at her like she’s some kind of space alien – apparently no one expected Selina to actually pick the tiny blonde girl – but Ben is avuncular, in his way, and Amy can recognise a favour when she’s receiving one. 

She has no doubt that Ben would dump her overboard if it would be useful to the President, but he wouldn’t make such an effort with her for no reason, so she’s determined to take full advantage of it.

She manages to get five minutes away from them all to call her sister and tell her the good news – not that Sophie is particularly impressed, but she has to tell _someone_ , and her mother would have even less understanding.

When she returns to the hall, Ben is announcing various appointments, and he points her out to the assembled group, who politely applaud.  (It’s a relief when they all stop looking at her, and she can rejoin Mike and get drunk).

The Hughes people have their faults, but the open bar keeps the champagne flowing, and Amy feels happy and loving towards just about everyone – especially when they remind her, over and over again, that she’s the youngest VP Chief-of-Staff anyone can remember.

And that’s when her phone beeps.

It’s a text message, from Selina. 

Amy has to hold the phone steady so she can read it, but it doesn’t make sense, and eventually she makes her way outside to call her boss.

Ben’s huddled in a gaggle of men, smoking cigars and telling super-funny-jokes, Amy’s sure, so she sits down on the step and puts one finger in her ear, before calling Selina.

And gets…chaos.  Something about Andrew, something about Catherine, and something about wanting to jam a spork into the Ethics Committee Chair’s eye. 

After a couple of minutes, Amy accepts that, whatever it is, it’s not going to make sense over the phone, and so she promises Selina she’ll come to the residence and they’ll sort it out together.

She puts her head in her hands for a moment – Andrew just will not _go away_ , and making Selina see sense about him has never been an easy task, even when she’s sober – but then tries to stand.

And, oh god, she’s definitely had more champagne than she thought, because she’s worryingly unsteady on her feet.  Like things aren’t going to be difficult enough.

She pulls Ben aside, to thank him, and explain that she has to leave, and… all he says is, “So this is your first drunk crisis?”  When she nods, hoping desperately he’ll have some been there, done that, seen it all before wisdom to bestow on her, all he says is, “We all got to lose our virginity some time kid.” 

And then he goes back to his conversation, and Amy has to, rather unsteadily, go grab her handbag, and make her way out of the party. 

Which would be bad enough – she doesn’t want _anyone_ to realise she’s drunk – and then, of course, it gets worse.  In seeking to avoid a run in with Jonah, she takes a rather circuitous route out of the room, and runs into…

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Hi Ames,” he says, with half a smile and half a smirk.  “Been a while.”

“What are you even doing here?”

“My congresswoman was of assistance in Ohio, remember?” (She did remember that – vaguely – she’d make an active effort not to notice anything to do with Dan Egan unless she absolutely had to).  “So why,” Dan continues, eyeing her in an uncomfortably…speculative manner, “Is Ms Chief-of-Staff trying to sneak out of the party – isn’t this the closest you’ll ever get to being prom queen?”

Amy grimaces at the thought.  “I have to go – I have work to do.”

“Yeah,” Dan says, pointing, “But the exit is over there.”

“Maybe.”  She sways as she speaks.  “But the route to the exit that doesn’t involve walking past the world’s largest, gropiest pair of hands is this way.”

He smiles, really smiles then.  “You’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not.  I’m not saying this because I’m drunk, I’m saying this because Jonah Ryan is the most objectionable human being to ever live, and I am including you in that assessment.”

“He’s the tall guy, right?”

“Tall is not the right word.  He’s a fucking… put it this way, now I know how the woman in King Kong felt.”

Dan snorts, and takes her elbow.  “Okay drunkie, I’ll get you out.”

Amy grumbles (she’s under no illusions that he’s in any sense an improvement on Jonah), but lets him.  The last thing she wants is to trip and embarrass herself in front of all these people. 

It’s only when they’re out on the street that Dan steps back.  (It’s the first time she’s been close enough to have a conversation with him in almost a year – which wasn’t an accident).  “So, why _are_ you leaving?  I thought you’d be celebrating till dawn.”

“Selina’s having some kind of crisis – she says she needs me, and… that’s what I’m for.”

Dan’s mouth twitches.  “I don’t think you’re going to be much help right now.”

“I _know_ ,” Amy says, gesturing.  “But what am I supposed to do?  I wasn’t expecting this.  I am never, ever drinking again.  I mean, look what’s happened – I’m talking to _you_.”

Dan rolls his eyes, and slings his arm over her shoulders.  “You’d be fine if you’d eaten more than, I don’t know, a breadstick, all day.”

“I had a salad,” Amy says indignantly.

He ignores her, and walks them towards the McDonalds across the street.  “Fries and a Coke.  And then maybe a coffee.”

He sits with her while she eats, telling her about the campaign in Ohio, and how his congresswoman is going to be the new chair of the judicial committee, and increased her vote margin (all, all of this is because of him, Dan Egan, of course), and Amy can’t work out why he’s bothering.

She sucks up the last of her Coke and says, “So who are you planning to work for next?”  Dan gives her a look, and she continues, “That was basically a pitch, and you know I’m not giving you a job, so you’re what… rehearsing?”

“No comment,” Dan says, smirking.

“Chair of the Judicial Committee’s doing pretty well – I mean, not _Executive Branch_ well, but pretty well… what Senator are you chasing?”

“A gentleman never tells.”

She snorts.  “Which is why I know you will.”  She puts on her most wheedling tone, though she’s not sure why she’s bothering.  “Come on – it’s not like I’m going to remember.”

“You’re not that drunk, but…fine.  Senator Hallows might soon find herself in need of a new Communications Director.  And who better to swoop in and save the day?”

“ _Anyone_.  Literally anyone.”

“Your Comms director is Mike McClintock – you’re in no position to judge.”

“Dan, there are pieces of ratshit that are more trustworthy than you.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’m just glad I’m not the one who has to deal with you.”

Dan doesn’t react, just looks her in the eye, and Amy wills herself not to flush.  She meant what she said, no matter how he wants to interpret it.  When she’s held his gaze for what she judges to be long enough, she picks up her handbag, saying, “I really have to go.”

He escorts her out, opening the door for her in an echo of the more courtly way he used to treat her, and then stands with her while she tries to hail a cab.

“So, why _are_ you helping me?  I can’t get you in there with Hallows.”

“Oh, I know,” Dan says, as her cab pulls up.  “But mostly, it’s so you’ll owe me one.”

“There it is,” she says.

It’s not a surprise – it’s precisely what she expected – but what he says next _is._   Amy’s about to open the door to her cab, and she’s rather startled when Dan...crowds her up against it, one of his arms boxing her in.  He leans in, so close his mouth almost grazes her ear.  “You’re a very cute drunk, you know that?”

He draws back, very slightly, so she can see his eyes, and Amy… Amy doesn’t know what to say.  He’s close enough to kiss her, and she really, really hopes he won’t.  She has a sinking feeling that she might let him.  (She would definitely slap him afterwards, but she’d let him). 

Dan holds her gaze, and it feels like her heartbeat has actually slowed down.  (He’s _such_ a goddamn _snake_ ).  But he doesn’t move, doesn’t touch her, and finally Amy blinks.  She keeps her eyes down until she feels him pull back, and without looking up, says, “Thanks for… but if you think I’ll talk you up to Hallows because of it…”

“Time will tell,” Dan says, and she finally looks at him again.  He’s backed away from her, his hands in his pockets, and doesn’t look even remotely embarrassed.  (Maybe he was just fucking with her – he _would_ ). 

She pulls open the cab door and gets in – slightly surprised when Dan closes it for her.  Before she can give the driver directions, he leans down, so his head is level with the open window.  “And Amy?”

“Yeah?”

“Congratulations.  I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other now.”

“Ugh,” she says, “Fuck you.” 

She has no interest in being _useful_ to Dan Egan, and so she tells the cab driver to take her to Selina’s house.

She doesn’t look back at him, not at all, not once. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mysterious 'former' Chief-of-Staff to Selina is entirely my invention, but, assuming Amy is the same age as Anna Chlumsky (which seems reasonable), she is ludicrously young for her position at the start of the show. However, I can definitely see Selina promoting someone who's loyalty is unquestionable after being thwarted by her first pick.


	18. The Appetite Alters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan (and Amy) in season 6

The Appetite Alters

He hears about Buddy Calhoun’s campaign implosion at an editorial meeting.  The dashcam footage has gone viral, and they’re debating whether to pick up the story or not.

By the standards Dan’s used to, sexually harassing a police officer while bitching about a frigid girlfriend isn’t anything particularly shocking (and gee, why would a woman be reluctant to have sex with a prince like that?) but the name captures his attention. 

Buddy Calhoun was the human pencil Amy had pretended to be dating – at least, back when she was still occasionally talking to him. 

Which she hadn’t, not in a long time.

In fact the last proper conversation they’d had was her yelling down the phone at him from Nevada, telling him to stop texting her, stop calling her, to leave her alone. 

Dan hadn’t taken it seriously.

She’d have her little fling, and she’d realise Buddy had all the interest of pasta without sauce, and she’d suggest going for tequila.  Or something. 

But she’d stopped replying to his messages, stopped calling, even stopped posting on facebook.  If Dan hadn’t heard, via Ben, that she was running a gubernatorial campaign out west, he’d have worried she’d dropped off the face of the earth.

(He’d also heard that her Dad had had a heart attack, only a month or two after they’d left the White House, and had been in hospital for weeks.  He toyed with the idea of sending her a “Glad he’s okay,” message, but it was so long after by the time he knew about it – and she had ignored every other text message he’d sent, though, thanks to the magic of iPhones, he knew she’d read them.   It pissed him off just thinking about it, and so he hadn’t bothered in the end.  It’s not like it would make any difference.  He wasn’t going to waste his time on her any more).

So it was _interesting_ to find out that the campaign she was running was none other than Buddy Calhoun’s. 

Thanks to her boyfriend’s idiotic inability to keep his fly closed, their little local campaign had rocketed up the national news agenda, and if Dan knew Amy, she’d be desperately trying to do damage control.  (Good luck with that). 

Stevie had been in touch with the campaign, and apparently they were willing to do an interview (because one prayerful mea culpa just wasn’t enough, apparently).

They were willing to do an interview on one condition.  That Dan not be the interviewer.

Supposedly the campaign manager had said that since they were such old friends, she couldn’t _possibly_ put him in the position of appearing to have such an obvious conflict of interest, it wouldn’t be right… and Amy must have improved a hell of a lot as an actress if she’d been able to sell Stevie on that angle.

Jane was only mildly interested in the story – dismissing it in favour of a piece about racist abuse of white teachers in inner city schools – and so Dan said, “I’ll do it.”

“They won’t come on if it’s you; she was pretty adamant about that.”

“So, we spring it on them,” he says, leaning back in his chair and grinning.  “They won’t be able to complain about it on air, and I’ve known Amy for years.  I guarantee I can get more out of her than Jane can.”

“Think you can make her cry?”

“She worked for Selina Meyer for _years_.”

“That’s a no.”

“Again, I guarantee Jane can’t.”

Stevie heaved a sigh and then said, “Fine.  They’ll never do another interview with us again, but he’s basically roadkill by now, so… I’ll tell them to come into the Carson City studio tomorrow.”

Dan’s excited – he can’t help it – and he goes back to his office and reads the brief.  They’d placed interviews in the major Nevada papers and on the local tv affiliates – Amy was no fool – all full of the heart-warming story of how they’d fallen in love over an election recount, during which time Buddy had convinced Amy to look into building change on a state level, to stay with him and run his campaign for Governor.  She’d fallen in love with him at the same time as she’d fallen in love with the state – supposedly – and was now looking forward to working with him to make Nevada a better place.

It might even have worked, Dan thought, if Calhoun had had the sense to keep himself to himself.   Though the two of them looked like siblings – all honey blonde hair and blue eyes – so maybe not.  There was something unnatural about them whenever they posed together for pictures, Amy’s posture stiff and uncomfortable in a way he remembered, and her _fiance’s_ stance making it clear he didn’t know where to put his hands on her (which was probably half the problem, if the video was anything to go by).

This was what she’d gone to Nevada for?  A mannequin in cowboy boots, not able to do basic political geometry or give her a fucking orgasm… This was who she’d been ignoring him for?  Who the fuck did she think she was?

There’s a picture of the two of them at some kind of ball – Amy in a blue gown that Dan’s never seen, and _Buddy_ in a tuxedo – that sticks with him.  It’s the only photo in which her smile looks like her smile, and it strikes him as he looks at it… she hasn’t looked at Dan like that since… since…

She’s radiant. 

He slams the brief closed and leaves.  He wants to be sharp for the interview, and so he goes to the gym, calls Carol from the week before for a quickie, and checks the headlines before settling down to sleep.  He even gets a cab in the morning, so he can be cool and unflustered walking into work – he doesn’t want any messy commute to throw him off.

And it is _everything_ he hoped.  Stevie signals him when they’ve arrived in the Nevada studio, and he introduces himself once they’ve put in their earpieces.  Amy twitches in an intensely satisfying way when she hears his voice and actually looks directly into the camera for a moment, though she must know she can’t see him that way. 

It’s nice to look at her, after so long.  Her hair is longer than it used to be, and she’s wearing some ridiculous frilly blouse thing and holding Buddy’s hand throughout, the doting girlfriend, all charm and doe eyes.

Dan’s going to rip that mask right off her. 

He can see through it, see the strain the act is placing on her, even if no one else can.

Buddy’s not even worth the effort it would take to land a punch on him, he’s pathetic, Dan nails him to the wall without even trying, without even really going for him.  It’s enjoyable, of course, to make Amy see what an empty suit her fiancé is, to make her realise that she’s chosen a pathetic shadow of a man, it’s the most fun Dan has had in months.

And knowing that she’d hidden their relationship, that she hadn’t wanted Buddy to know about him, that was even sweeter.

But she doesn’t unclench the way he’d expected, once the interview is over, she doesn’t relax, doesn’t even smile at his joke, not at all, and things must be worse than Dan had thought.

He gives it a week – two weeks at the most.

 

* * *

 

 

When he comes into work the next morning, Stevie claps him on the back.  “Nicely done,” he says, and shows him a video of a campaign event in Nevada the night before.  A campaign event in which Buddy Calhoun calls off his candidacy and gets publicly dumped by his loving wife-to-be.  Dan wants to punch the air.

“Didn’t even make it twelve hours,” Stevie said.  “We’re doing a little video package for the website, comparing the interview with this… the story’s already gone viral, so we can expect pick up.  Think you can get her to come on again?”

“I can try,” Dan says… though he knows she won’t.  She’d withstood the interview for the campaign, but there was no way…

He calls – and calls – and finally, in a fit of inspiration, remembers he has Amy’s home number.  (She’d called him from it years before, at some ungodly fucking hour, when she’d had a brainwave about the New York primary and wanted to talk it through.  He sworn at her and they’d talked for the best part of an hour, Amy letting him tell her about his first state senate race, back in college, and the shitshow that had been.  He’d only hung up when he realised she was asleep – but he’d made sure to keep the number).

He doesn’t necessarily expect her to pick up – getting from Nevada to Washington in one night at the last minute was an unlikely achievement… but he’d underestimated her, clearly, because she answered.  “Hi Mom, you saw the news?” 

She sounds like she’d been sleeping, and Dan smiles to himself, just a little, and says, “I am the news, remember?”

“What?” 

“So, you’re back in DC?”

“How do you even  _have_  this number?” 

“Oh, I have my ways,” Dan says, and laughs.  She sounds outraged with him, and it’s bracing to hear after so long, like a clean wind on a hot day.  “And you weren’t answering your phone.  How long are you going to keep this blanking me thing going anyway?”

“Most people can take a hint.”

“How do you think  _Buddy’s_  feeling right now?  That was cold, Ames, and I should know – I got to watch the video like six times this morning.  In front of national news cameras?  I didn’t know you had it in you.  At least when I dumped my –”

She hangs up on him, and it takes him all of two seconds to write “Fucking rude” in a text message and send it to her.

She doesn’t reply.  But a week or two later, he sees her in news footage of Selina.   

Which means nothing.  So what if they’re finally back in the same place, so what if seeing her would require nothing more than a long subway ride or two?  He’s dating around, lapping up all the options New York has to offer (each woman more stunning than the last), and he’s not going to waste his time on Amy Brookheimer.

He lasts ten days before calling her again.  With everything that’s happening with Jane, he really does want her advice, it’s a work thing, that’s why he wants to see her.  Obviously. 

And it’s just stupid for her to pretend to ignore him like this – he _knows_ she’s not, he knows she _can’t_ , even if she wanted to.

It was one thing to let her blank him when she was halfway across the country – another thing entirely when she was practically next door.

Besides, if he leaves her alone again, she’ll wander off and marry some idiot who doesn’t know the difference between the Senate and the House (who isn’t Jonah).  There’s not going to be any repeat of that nonsense if he can help it.

She must be feeling shy or some shit, because it’s a week or more before she returns his call, and there’s…something, in her voice, like she’s expecting to be slapped, and is gearing up to slap right back.  So instead of calling her out on her weird radio silence, he just suggests a time and a place.  If he gets too testy, she’ll just hide out on him again, and he’s really not in the fucking mood.

He sees her, prepping herself, outside the bar, checking that her hair is neat and putting on lipstick, and then she squares her shoulders and walks in to meet him. 

She’s got her purse held in front of her like a shield, but whatever, Dan still hugs her, letting his hand graze her hip ever so slightly, brushing his cheek against hers for just the socially acceptable amount of time.  She doesn’t move, doesn’t reciprocate, not really, but she smiles a tight little smile at him when he pulls away, so he knows he got it more right than wrong. 

He goes to get her a drink, and when he comes back, Amy has removed her coat, which means he can see what she’s wearing.

It’s the _ugliest_ fucking dress he’s ever seen.  It somehow manages to cover her up – to his occasional disappointment, Amy’s never been one to flaunt her figure, but even by her standards this is 1950s librarian dowdy – while making her all one shade of naked beige.  It’s so ugly it feels like a message – touch me and die.  (But the nude colour of the dress outlines her tits _gloriously_ , so in fact, if that’s its purpose it’s a complete failure).

The only thing that looks like the Amy he knows are the fuck me heels, and he has a suspicion that if he tests her too much she’ll ram one of them into his instep, so he doesn’t.  Softly, softly is the move here – he can afford to take his time.  If he pisses her off, she’ll fly off to god knows where, and all the effort will be wasted.

It takes a while, but she does relax, leaning into him as they talk, rolling her eyes at his stories, and bitching about the upcoming Qatar visit in a way that is endearingly familiar.  Her hair, so long now, keeps falling into her face, and Dan has this perverse desire to run his fingers through it, to feel each fine strand against his fingertips and then make a fist, right near the roots, so he can pull her close and really see into her face. 

It’s annoying.

He doesn’t of course – he doesn’t even touch it – he just looks.

And he really is worried about Jane – which is useful, in a way.  He can return to the subject whenever the conversation flags, and try to gauge Amy’s opinion on what (or, more accurately who) he should do.  It’s a compliment to her judgement, really, that he’d even ask – though, somehow, he doesn’t think she sees it that way.

But then Gary interrupts them, and he gets to witness, first-hand, the absolute irrelevance of everything to do with Selina Meyer.  He’s never been happier to be at CBS.

He wasn’t going to make the obvious joke - he’d told himself sternly not to undo a whole evening’s work for the momentary satisfaction of a good line… but as time passes, he finds he just can’t resist, so a few days later he texts her one quick sentence.

_Anyone else put their dick where they shouldn’t?_

And even though she’s in Qatar, her response is immediate: _What do you know?_

_Just an observation.  Make sure to avoid Jonah, because there’s something about you lately, everybody’s whipping their junk out._

_If you mean the FGM speech…_

_What do you think?_

_How long have you been sitting on that joke?_

_Oh, only since Gary interrupted us.  Can’t help but notice the theme Ames.  Think the universe is trying to tell you something?_

_I’d say get your mind out of the gutter, but honestly, for you it would be an improvement._

_Don’t worry – sooner or later you’ll meet someone who knows where it’s supposed to go.  Drinks soon?_

Dan’s honestly not sure if the glowering emoji she sends him is meant to convey anger or acceptance, and in truth, he doesn’t really care.  It’s the longest text exchange they’ve had since the election (Amy had gone skittish about text messages around then, he still didn’t know why), and he has a grin on his face when he turns over to fuck Brie. 

She’s coming back to him, because of course she is.

 

* * *

 

Amy’s leaning her head on her hand, staring glumly into her drink, the way she has been all night.  She’s starting to develop a rosy flush on each cheek, a weird reflection of the pattern of her dress, and her hair is spilling over her shoulders.  She yawns when he sets her drink down in front of her, and shakes her head at him.

“I really should have gone, like, three drinks ago.”

“I know – you’re going to feel like hell in the morning.” 

“So will you,” she says, screwing her face up at him.

“Nope.  I’m fired, remember?  I’m going to sleep in until three in the afternoon.”

“You’re not that drunk,” Amy says, poking his shoulder, and swaying backwards when he didn’t move.  “ _I’m_ not even that drunk.”

“I have been getting up at ass o’clock every morning for nearly a year, all to go look at Jane Fucking McCabe.  I’m sleeping in tomorrow.”

“Good for you,” Amy says, “But I have that meeting in the morning, so this is the _last_ drink.  Absolutely the last drink.”

“Sure it is,” he says, snickering at her irritated face.

“Though I’m not sure why I’m bothering.  She’ll just yell at me like I’m… I don’t know why I’m bothering.”

“Then fuck it – tell her you overslept.  Tell her you went for a _jog_.”

“Is that supposed to be funny, somehow?”

“Oh it’s hilarious,” Dan says, patting her shoulder.  “I read your bio on the site.  Since when do you go jogging or love Pilates?”

“I always…no, I can’t make that believable, and why would I even bother, you… you don’t give a shit anyway.”

“True.”

“I used to go jogging, you know, in college.”

“Sure you did.”

“I _did_.  It’s just, when I moved to DC…my first apartment wasn’t…well, I got mugged three weeks after I’d moved in, and…  So many terrible things happened to me that first year.  Anyway, when I finally moved to a better neighbourhood, we were prepping for the primaries and… there just wasn’t time.”

“But you still _love_ it, do you?”

“Well I started going out again, in Nevada.  Couple of times a week – just run down the river bed for a while.”

It’s the first time she’s so much as mentioned (or come close to mentioning) Buddy Calhoun in front of him, and Dan does what he does best.  “Of course you did.  Got to work out all that frustration somehow.”

“Everything isn’t always about –”

“This is.”

“And you don’t know I was – anything!”

“Oh please, Ames,” he says, shifting closer to her, close enough to mutter directly into her ear.  “You’re not deep.  I know everything about you.”

“That’s not true.”  Her voice is shaking.

“You think I don’t know what the problem was?”  He lets his hand rest on the back of her chair, so that his arm is almost, but only almost, around her.  “That fuckbrain did something stupid in bed didn’t he?” 

Amy’s eyes are huge, but she doesn’t answer his question, so he continues.  “And then, he kept on doing it, because he’s a fuckbrain, and he somehow didn’t notice you were all strung out, wound tight like a guitar string, fucking miserable the entire time.  _I_ noticed.”

He knocks back the rest of his drink, happy to let her stew on his words for a moment or two.  Amy seems mesmerised, and has to shake herself out of a faint daze when he shifts closer to her again.  “You don’t _know_ ,” she says finally.

“Yeah,” he flashes her a grin.  “Tell me – which part is wrong?  No wonder you dumped him – the only good thing about a ‘long term relationship’ is regular sex, and he couldn’t even give you that.  So, lots of long runs in the river bed for you.”

“You don’t have any idea of what you’re talking about.”

“In a way, that’s true.  Because, unlike the man you were going to _marry_ , Ames, I actually do know what I’m doing.  So, that’s not a problem I’ve ever had to deal with.”

“That you know of.”  Her tone is waspish.

“Fair point.  I guess you are the only person who could make an informed comparison.”  He strokes her sleeve, very slightly, enjoying the drag of the cloth against his fingers. 

“I really hated it by the end,” Amy says, staring at the table.  “Every time he touched me, I just…”  She meets his eyes again, and she must overhear herself as she does so, because she changes tack.  “I should really go home.”

“You could do that,” he says.  “Or…”

“I have to go,” she says, and stands, badly, her legs slightly unsteady under her.  Dan puts his hand on her arm, helping her balance, and then she bends to pick up her purse, and all but falls into his shoulder.  For a half a second his world narrows to Amy’s soft weight against him, her silky hair brushing his cheek, and then she’s springing away from him as though she’s been scalded.  “Sorry, sorry,” she says.

“It’s fine.”

“Sorry, I just – ”

She’s getting turned around, trying to apologise, and trying not to acknowledge that she just gave him a faceful of boob, and still shifting on her feet, her balance less reliable than usual.  Dan takes her hands, to hold her in place.

“Amy, it’s fine.  Stand still for two seconds and I’ll walk you out.” 

She nods – the deep, earnest nod that Amy only gives when she’s drunk and has reverted to being approximately nineteen years old.  (Not that he knew her then – but how he imagines her).  He helps her put on her coat, tapping her shoulders in turn so she knows which sleeve to put her arms into. 

He wants to carry her home and keep her like a souvenir.  Have her roll her eyes at him every morning so he has something to smile about.  He used to have her every day, her voice in his ear, her frown that tried not to be a smile looking at him across the table.  He’s tempted to crush her back against his chest, bury his face in her hair and tell her she can’t leave. 

But he doesn’t.

Still, she can’t just walk off and not see him again for two months or three months or however long.  It’s not enough.

She used to be _his_ , first and only, and Dan will be fucked if he’s going to keep trying to do without when he doesn’t have to.

He feels heavy and slow, like all his weight has pooled in his feet, but he’s still closer to sober than Amy (not much closer, but closer).  He’s seen this before – she’ll talk to him perfectly coherently, and rip his arguments to shreds, and seem all but unaffected by the alcohol… right until she stands up and it all goes right to her head.

He knows exactly what to do.

So, Dan puts his hand on her back as they walk out of the bar, ready to catch her if she stumbles into a chair or something.  Amy keeps twitching, trying to shrug him off, and so he moves closer, his hand getting heavier and more insistent.

He holds the door open for her, and she ducks under his arm, casting one wide-eyed glance back at him.  (He’s seen that look before).

When they’re outside under the streetlights and he grasps her elbow, Amy jumps, and wheels to face him.  “Don’t do that,” she says.  “I hate it when you do that.”

“Do what?”

She grabs the lapels of his coat (and she’s partially using them for balance, Dan thinks, though she probably hasn’t realised that), and continues as though he hasn’t spoken.  “You do it _all_ the time, and it’s not… you shouldn’t do it.”

“Amy, do what?”

Dan asks the question, though he knows exactly what she means, even as he snakes both his arms around her waist.  Amy shakes her head in frustration.  “You _always_ do that, and it’s so… it’s so… distracting.”

“Oh, _is_ it?”

“I’m not your fucking _pet_.  It’s not _fair_ , Dan.”

He leans closer, his lips almost grazing her cheek.  “Since when I have cared about fair?”

“I _know_ ,” Amy says, with a kind of moan in her voice that shouldn’t be a turn-on.  “You’re always touching me, and I can’t ever notice, or you’ll be a dick, and I can’t ever touch you back, or you’ll be a dick, and I can’t stand it.”

“Sweetheart, you can touch me any time you want.”

She scoffs.  “Sure, if you don’t have a better option within fifty miles.  You shouldn’t do it.”

“But I like touching you.”  He’s got her now, securely pressed up against him, in minimal danger of falling over, so he slides one hand up to cup her cheek.  “I don’t _want_ to stop.”

“And I don’t want to be working for a political has-been.  You can’t always have what you want.”

“Maybe you can’t,” Dan says.  “But I can.”

He kisses her.

Amy gasps, almost, into the kiss, as though it’s brand new to her, and Dan takes the opportunity, cupping the back of her head in one hand and _insisting_.  And for once in her fucking life she cooperates, she gives him exactly what he wants, twining her arms around his neck and all but melting into him, her mouth hot and sweet and filthy in the best way.  It’s all the best parts of a conversation with Amy distilled into a single moment, with no awkward words to distract him.

When he squeezes her ass, Amy laughs just a little, incredulous, and she pulls back from him.  (Well, pulls back an entire inch and a half).  “I don’t understand,” she says, and there’s a wobble in her voice.

He’s not sure she even knows what question she’s asking, so he moves to kiss her neck and then whispers in her ear, “You’re coming home with me.”

“I shouldn’t…”  He lets his teeth graze her skin, and Amy’s breath hitches, her hands moving to hold him in place.

“I know,” he says.  “But you’re still coming home with me.”

Amy gives him the tiniest nod, and Dan can’t help it, he affects not to understand.  “Sorry?”

She pushes against him half-heartedly.  “You’re such a _shit_.  Can’t you ever take yes for an answer?”

“I don’t know, try again.”

She gives him A Look, but can’t maintain it, not really, and eventually says, “Yes.  Okay?  Yes.  Yes.”

“If nothing else, you know what a man likes to hear.” 

Amy stares at him, and then she’s on him, pulling him down by the neck and stretching up on her toes so she can reach him and shove her tongue in his mouth. 

It’s like he’s triggered some automatic “Fuck me” button in her brain, and for a moment he’s almost overwhelmed.  He has to take a step back, to maintain his (well, their) balance (Amy’s still using him as a crutch), and that’s when he realises that it’s time to take this inside. 

If she keeps this up he’ll have her up against a wall with her panties off inside of four minutes, and a citation for public indecency is the last thing either of them needs on this already terrible day.

 

* * *

 

He’d found a cab faster than he’d dared hope, and managed to keep his hands off her for an entire five minutes, which deserved some kind of medal.  (Admittedly, at the end of the five minutes he had his hand up her skirt, teasing her through her underwear with his thumb.  The way Amy struggled to keep her breathing under control was reward enough).

He held her hand as they walked into his building, but nothing more – the last thing he needs is a picture of “Danny Egan and a mystery blonde” to go viral.  She’d never forgive him.

But the second the elevator doors close, things change. 

Dan had expected – had assumed – that Amy would be shy, would need coaxing, would let him take the lead…

It’s not quite like that.

She damn near hurls him against the wall – though she’s so unsteady on her feet, Dan has to grab her waist to stabilise her – pulling him down by his tie, and kissing his neck and his jaw.  

He’s not going to say a fucking thing, not if it ruins this.

Amy takes his face in her hands and slots her mouth over his, her tongue sliding in, greedy and demanding, kissing him like he’s an intern who’s pissed her off or a congressman who’s dared to question.  He _will_ comply, whether he likes it or not. 

He’d always wondered what Amy would be like, shorn of inhibitions. 

When the elevator dings, it takes a moment for both of them to realise what it means.  And then Dan is steering her out of the elevator, staying as close as he can get (the way her ass bumps against his crotch is irresistible, but he’s got to get her into his apartment before he can hold her properly and _grind_ like he wants to).

It takes him a whole minute to find his keys (he blames Amy, she’s incredibly distracting), and what feels like ten minutes to get the key in.   “Can’t work doors all of a sudden, Danny?”

“Don’t you fucking start,” he says, pushing it open (finally).

Amy wrinkles her nose, “I have called you much worse things than your name.”

“If you scream out Danny, I swear to –”

“Well aren’t you cocky?”

“Damn right I am,” he says, and Amy gulps.  It’s minute, but he sees it, and in a way… it’s a relief to know that the crack in her façade he’d been expecting _is_ there.

He starts to back her down the corridor, kissing her and shoving her coat off (Amy drops her purse with a ‘clunk’ that surprises them both before they start laughing). 

It’s all going so well until he trips over the box of crap he’d brought back from CBS earlier in the day.  He falls, and takes Amy with him, and the only good thing is that he manages to shift so that _she_ lands on _him_ , rather than the other way round.

They’re both quiet for a second, trying to catch their breath, and finally Amy says, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.  Yeah,” he says, “Just…”

“You didn’t hit your head?”

“Are you trying to talk me out of – because – ”

“ _No_ ,” Amy says, so annoyed she isn’t even flustered.  “I just wanted to be sure you weren’t hurt.”

Dan strokes her hair.  “I’m fine.”

She shifts slightly, and huffs out a breath that might be a laugh when she sees the box.  There’s a smile in her voice when she says, “Full of pictures of yourself – just what I expected.”

“Oh really?”

“In fact,” and she gets up off him, faster than he’d have thought she could, “I want to check something.”  She kicks her heels off and takes a quick tour of his living room.  Dan sits up slowly as she does so, and removes his tie.  (There’s an even chance Amy will accidentally strangle him with it trying to take it off, and he’d really rather not).

“Find what you expected?”

“Do you have _any_ pictures of people who aren’t you, like family, or…who am I kidding, friends?  You know, that’s probably my favourite thing about you – from a certain point of view, you never, ever disappoint.”

Naturally she says this right at the moment she picks up the only photo that does in fact include another person, and in an effort to distract her, Dan says, “Well I wasn’t _planning_ to?”

But he wasn’t quick enough, and she’s looked at it.  He can tell, because Amy goes _still_ for a second, and then turns around, to put the picture frame back in place. 

It’s them.  Way back, in the midterms campaign.  Hughes’ photographer had grabbed a shot of them, Amy leaning up to speak to him, and either the light had been great, or they’d both been in a good mood, or some magic had happened.  Every time he looked at it, (which wasn’t much, recently) he felt like he was right back in that moment.

He stands behind Amy, putting his arms around her and kissing her neck, as she set the frame down.  “I always liked that dress,” he says, moving his hands to the button on her collar.

“You never said –”  Amy says, and he kisses her. 

By the time he’s released her, he’s got her dress completely open and one hand on her breast.  But even that’s not enough to distract Amy – she’s still staring at that photo like it’s the most startling thing she’s ever seen.

“Done admiring yourself?” he says, letting the fingers of his other hand just…rest on her stomach, almost, but not quite, touching her underwear.

“ _You’re_ saying that?”

“No,” he says, turning her around and pushing her dress off her shoulders.  “I’m saying I can admire you much better, if you’ll pay attention to _me._ ”

“Okay,” Amy says.

And she lets him back her into the bedroom, and strip her off completely, and she’s eager and ready and so, so impatient for him, he can’t help grinning. 

(He’s never going to forget the look of pure shock on her face when she says “ _You_ don’t have condoms?”  He doesn’t want to go through the rigmarole of an explanation, and tells her to trust him, it’s fine, everything she can think of is fine, it doesn’t matter if she’s not on the pill.)  (Later on, when he thinks about it properly, he’s…touched, or something, because… she did).

Afterwards, when Amy’s slumped on his chest, too languid to move, Dan strokes her shoulder.  It’s been twenty minutes or so, and he finally feels up to speaking.  “You know,” he says, “I didn’t hear a Danny.”  Amy presses her lips to his collarbone, but doesn’t say anything.  “I didn’t even hear a Dan.  I’m not sure I heard a single recognisable word in there.”

She yawns.  “Are you going to be like this all night?”

“Probably.”

“Then is it okay if I sleep, because I feel like you don’t need any input from me?”

“Believe me, your input is _always_ appreciated,” he says, raising an eyebrow when she looks at him.

“Don’t you ever get tired of…”

“No.”

Amy rests her chin on his chest, and looks him in the eye.  She doesn’t appear to notice his hands stroking her hair and her back.  “I mean, yes, we had sex, and it was…” 

“It was?”

“You don’t have to go on about it.”

“Oh I know I don’t _have_ to.”

She starts laughing then.  “I’m just surprised you don’t have a mirror over the bed.”

“I’ve learned through trial and error that that tends to freak women out.”

“Only if they don’t know you.”

“Well, they mostly don’t.”

“Right,” Amy says, and there’s a kind of… withdrawal in her face, he can see it – so he kisses her, a loud, ludicrous, lip-smacking kiss.  “Don’t do that,” he says.

“Do what?”

“ _That_ – that hiding thing, I’m not fucking Buddy.  You think I can’t see it?”

She looks away from him.  “I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Hey,” Dan says, tilting her chin so she has to look at him.  “Before you get all…like that, remember, I’m not the one who fucked off to Nevada with a sex offender.”

“He wasn’t – _obviously_ I didn’t know that.  And it’s not like… it’s not like I left _you_.”

“No, it’s exactly like that.”

“I didn’t think it _mattered._ ” Amy sounds honestly confused.  “You don’t want friends.”

“Exactly.”

“You spent months reminding me that you…”  She stops herself, takes a breath and continues.  “Why would I ever get it into my head that you…gave even half a shit where I went?”

She’s still drunk – at least a little drunk – Dan realises, because she would never actually tell him this if she wasn’t.  “I’m not completely heartless.”  Amy makes a face and he adds.  “That’s the difference between you and me.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he says, and it’s the easiest thing he’s ever said.  “See, there’s nothing about you I don’t like.  Not a single thing.”

Amy shakes her head.  “That’s not true.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“No, it’s _not_.”

“When have I ever said something just to make you feel better?”

Amy laughs, and brings a hand to her mouth – she’s a little horrified, Dan thinks, though at him or herself he doesn’t know.  Gently, he moves her hand away, and pulls her to him again, kissing her deeply.  She’s just as pliant, just as soft as she was before, and it’s the work of a moment for him to roll them. 

They lose themselves for long minutes, teasing and exploring each other (he hadn’t had time to savour her taste before, but now…).  Amy finally breaks away with a little moan.  “We have to stop.  My face.”  She’s all red around her mouth, and it takes Dan a second to realise why.  She brushes her fingers across his cheek.  “This is why I always thought you looked better when it was, you know, grown in a little.”

“Oh, you don’t mind the five o’clock shadow?”

“No,” Amy says, and it’s so sincere, so her, he can’t even laugh.

“I’ll bear that in mind.  But I meant what I said.  I like it all.” 

“Sure you do.”

He starts to slide down her body, kissing as he goes.  “I like that cute little nose of yours, and those sticky out ears, and your shoulders, and the slope of your tits, that’s almost my favourite, and your belly-button, and your…”

Amy gasps as he flicks his tongue against her, once, twice, three times.  “And that.  I’m a big fan of that.”

“When you remember it’s there,” she says, tartly.

“Oh, did that hurt your feelings?”  He snickers and looks up at her from her abdomen.  “I take it back – I _never_ forget.”

She takes a deep breath, and Dan thinks… maybe this has all got a bit too real, so he adds.  “But it’s only my second favourite part.”

“If you say… I swear to –”

He really does laugh then, and crawls back up to her.  “I meant your brain, Ames – but, eh… if you want to know my opinion of -”

“Shut the fuck up.”  She kisses him, probably so that he will, in fact, shut up, and Dan laughs into the kiss a little.  When he ruts into her, not able to help it, she breaks the kiss, sounding surprised, “Again?”

“You wanna?”

Amy pulls him more properly on top of her, calling him an asshole, and he laughs, loving the feel of her hands yanking at him.  “That’s not quite the explicit consent I was going for, but -”

“Oh,” she says, taking him in hand and pressing him into her.  “Is this explicit enough for your conscience?”

Dan rests his head in her shoulder, placing a kiss at the base of her throat.  (He needs…a second – just a second, he’s not brand new at this – but she feels… it’s slightly too much).

Amy shifts underneath him, pulling him in deeper with arms and legs, and she actually curses when he starts to move.  It’s like the arguments they used to have, each meeting the other with equal force, and every time she rolls her hips against him, Dan feels like he might come right then and there.  He tries to take note of her breathing, of her fingers clutching at him, and when she starts to moan, desperate and just about the most gorgeous sound he’s ever heard, he takes that as his cue to speed up.

“Harder?”

Amy nods, her eyes closed and her face all screwed up.  “Yeah, yeah, don’t, don’t stop what you’re doing.”

Her hands are scrabbling in across his back, trying to hold on to something, trying to get a grip, and it’s not a surprise when she comes, squeezing down on him, tight and slick. 

He doesn’t last long after that.

Amy surprises him by yawning hugely mere seconds after he’s pulled out of her.  “Sorry,” she says, “I just – it’s late.”

“Yeah,” Dan says.  He passes her a bottle of water from his nightstand.  “Drink – you’re going to feel like shit in the morning.”

“No,” Amy says, and her smile is wider than he’s ever seen it.  “I won’t.”

“Good to know,” he says, and kisses her cheek.  “Your clothes are all over the fucking place by the way.”

“As long as I know they’re _mine_ , I don’t really care.”

Her eyes are closing already, and Dan turns the light off.   He can hear her drifting into sleep, and when she sounds like she’s properly out, he puts one arm over her, tucking his face into her shoulder. 

He’s _not_ a cuddler.  It’s just more comfortable this way.

 

* * *

 

When he wakes up the next morning, Amy’s gone, and the bed is cold. 

None of which is a surprise.  She’d mentioned that early morning meeting, and Dan had a vague memory of convincing her to press the snooze button at least once.

But even so. 

Whenever he’d woken up and Brie or Carol or whoever wasn’t there, it had been kind of a relief – it meant he didn’t have to _talk_ to them. 

Not this time.

He would have liked to have woken up beside Amy, to have seen her bedhead in the cold light of day, to have listened to her grumbling about her headache and Selina and everything that was wrong with the world.

She hadn’t texted him either – though Ben has, suggesting they get drinks again.  Somehow, Dan doesn’t think it’s just a social call, so he agrees.  (Besides, maybe Amy will be there again, maybe he can convince her to…)

He goes to the gym, and preps for his meeting with the MSNBC rep, and doesn’t check his phone once, or twice, or three times an hour. 

Three days have passed before he bows to the inevitable and calls her.  (Because if he doesn’t, it could be months before he hears from her again, they’ve played this game before).

She picks up on the third ring, her voice very crisp.  “Dan.”

“Sweetie,” he says, and winces.  (She never liked him calling her pet names, had he forgotten?).

“What’s up?”

“How are things in Casa Meyer?”

There’s a scuffle on the line, and it takes a few seconds for Amy to answer.  “Sorry,” she said, “It was too noisy to hear in there.”  (And, Dan thinks, she’s worried about where the conversation is going, she doesn’t want anyone to hear).  “Things are fine – she’s on the up – possibly literally, I don’t know.  I mean… you saw the coverage?”

“Yep.”

“Everyone here had actual smiles on their faces – _all_ day.  I can’t remember the last time Mike and Selina looked happy at the same time and it wasn’t a sign that I needed to start drinking.”

“And how about you?  Were you smiling?”

“Well…obviously.”  He can hear the caution in her voice.

“Look, I have a question.”

“O-kay.”  Amy drew the word out, like she didn’t want to hear what it was.

“I’m going back to D.C.”

“What?  What about the great TV personality, Dan Egan?  You clearly loved it.”

“Some of it,” Dan says.  “But Ben had an offer, and…”

“Ben – _he’s_ hired you?”

“We’re planning something.  And I wanted to know… if anything come up, if I thought there was something for you…would you want to know about it?”

“You mean with you?  Working together again?”

“Yeah.”  There’s a long pause, and Dan adds, “Don’t leave me hanging baby.”

“I guess… I would definitely think about it.”  She rushes the sentence out.

“You _think_ about a lot of things – I think about a lot of things – I want to know what you’ll _do_.”

“Dan, I –”

“Given what I’m hearing about Selina at the moment, I guarantee I’ll be more fun to be around.”

“I am not working in any office with fifteen pictures of you in it.”

“Well,” he says, smiling to himself, “If that’s your only dealbreaker…”

“Okay,” Amy says, and he thinks she’s smiling too.  “There’s no point in talking about it now.  But if… when you have something, come to me then.”

“Will do,” he says, and hangs up.

It takes less than a month to convince – okay, maybe not convince, they’d clearly been thinking of it themselves – Ben and Kent to bring Amy on board.  Dan had known Ben would be in favour – Amy had been his foul-mouthed little princess ever since their first campaign together – but he was pleased, if slightly surprised, that Kent wanted it too. 

Their only concern was whether Amy could ever be pried away from the comfort blanket that was Selina, if she was still too traumatised by Buddy Calhoun’s fuck-ups to want to leave, but… Dan had a plan for that. 

He’s been texting her on and off, letting her know how things are going with the set-up of the firm, sending her pictures of the new office, and basically selling it to her under the guise of staying in touch. 

In that respect, things were almost back to normal, though she hadn’t dared to mention that night, not even once.  Which is fine by him – he hasn’t mentioned any of the other nights with other people he’s had since either (he’s being considerate).  She’ll get there when she wants to get there.

And if she comes to work with them, who knows, maybe they can make it… a semi-regular thing.  You know, from time to time, if neither of them is seeing anyone else and she feels like it.  She just has to say the word.

When Dan finally sees her, strolling into _his_ office, coming to talk about working for _him_ , he can’t even stop himself, he’s fucking _beaming_.

This, them, together, that’s how it was always supposed to be.

Which is a thought that comes back to him at the Madison-Monroe dinner, when Amy’s dropped her bomb.  That wasn’t how he thought the conversation was going to go, not one bit.

He stands beside her, to listen to Selina’s speech, and she won’t look at him.  She must know he’s there, but she keeps staring ahead, focusing on Selina like she’s the only person in the room. 

Dan would be pissed at her for it, but after a moment or two of him looking at her out of the corner of his eye, Amy drops her phone.  She never, _never_ drops her phone.

He stoops to pick it up, and then she has to meet his eyes.  Which is when Dan realises… she’s nervous, more nervous than he’s ever seen her, that’s what the guarded expression is, why she has her arms folded right over her heart, why she was clenching her phone so hard it went flying to the floor.

For a moment, he wants to take her hand, and tell her everything will be all right, somehow… because when Amy gets scared, really scared, she runs the fuck away from him, and that is _not_ happening again.

But he’s not going to lie to her. 

He doesn’t know what the fuck to do either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Much Ado About Nothing:  
> Doth not the appetite alter? A man loves the  
> meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age. Shall  
> quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the  
> brain awe a man from the career of his humor?  
> No! The world must be peopled. When I said I would die a  
> bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.


	19. Where We Stop Nobody Knows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6.10 Amy makes a decision

Where We Stop Nobody Knows

Of all people, it’s Kent who first clues her in that something might be up.  They’d all gone for lunch and, in a bold move, Amy had ordered dessert.  It was a beautiful day, and she had a new job if she wanted it and… they’d all been so happy to see her… and a celebration was in order. 

Since champagne was out of the question (she had to drive back to New York), ice cream would have to do.  It was minimalist, stripped-down Japanese ice-cream (they _had_ gone for sushi in the end – and, in an unusual burst of restraint, Dan hadn’t made a single joke about the taste of fish), and it was honestly the best thing Amy had ever tasted. 

She moaned a little when she took the first bite, and Ben laughed.  “Jesus, Amy, is Selina not feeding you?  It doesn’t even have sauce.”

“I don’t care – you know, I didn’t even used to like ice-cream that much, but lately…I finally _get_ it.”

“Lately?” Kent said.

“Yeah, I… there’s this gelato shop near Selina’s office… it looks like shit, but… I’ve been going everyday.  It’s probably a good thing I’m leaving, now that I think of it.”

“You know my sister craved ice-cream,” Kent said.  “Both times actually.”

The bottom fell out of Amy’s stomach, and she was suddenly deeply, truly grateful that Dan had had to duck out early – going to meet Furlong to discuss a renewed run for Governor.  At the time she’d been…disappointed (she was still getting used to…seeing him again), but she has never been more glad of his absence.  (He’d suggested drinks later, and she’d had to decline, needing to go back to New York… but his eyes had lit up when she suggested a raincheck.  Which… what did she _think_ was going to happen?  He was still fucking _Dan_ , even if…)

Fortunately, Senator Hallows interrupted them, congratulating Ben on the new firm, and by the time she’s finished, it’s time to get the bill.  Amy makes her escape as gracefully as possible, and for probably the first time in her life she’s grateful for the nightmarish DC traffic.  It fills her thoughts and keeps her from having a complete meltdown.

She’d never been completely regular – her ob/gyn had yelled at her more than once about her stressful lifestyle – but even for her… even for her seven weeks without a period was pushing it.  She tried to count backwards, to work out the timing, but her head was full of buzzing, and she just couldn’t do the math.  Once she was properly outside the city, she pulled in and took out her phone, trusting it more than herself at the moment.

But no matter how many times she counted the dates, her conclusion remained the same.  It was definitely possible.

Except, it wasn’t.

Even if Dan was the kind of evil that would claim to be infertile when he wasn’t… which, no.  He was terrible, but not _that_ terrible.

But even if he were… Amy knew all about Catherine’s donor drama.  She hadn’t particularly _wanted_ to know, of course, but a lack of interest had never stopped Catherine Meyer in her tracks, not when there was an opportunity to talk about herself (and her _baby_ , and her _Marjorie_ ).  (That Dan’s medical information should maybe remain private didn't appear to have crossed her mind).

She couldn’t claim to have actually _thought_ about any of this of course – she been too drunk to think that logically (at least, not when Dan was…) but obviously the information had lodged somewhere in her brain, because she’d accepted all of his assurances without even…

“ _Fuck_ ,” Amy said, thumping her head against the steering wheel.  This wasn’t the plan.

It takes her longer than it should to make it back to New York – her hands are more unsteady than she likes, and she’s reluctant to drive too fast.

The moment she arrives, Selina wants to talk to her about the speech at Yale, and strategies for containing Leon West, and Amy lets herself get sucked into it.  Other people’s problems are so much less exhausting.

But she still asks if she can come in an hour late the next morning, because she has to _know_.  Selina bitches and moans, but also clearly doesn’t really care.  (Amy should send Jaffar flowers, he’s made her life so much more pleasant).

It’s bright and early when she runs to the drugstore for a pregnancy test or two – and the cashier gives her an “Atta-girl!” smile that makes her feel nauseous.  (It’s such a strange moment for her to think of Sophie).

It’s _not_ morning sickness.  (But if it was, would that be so…)

She races home and takes all three tests at once, setting the timer on her phone and pacing back and forth while it counts down.

She’d been so sure after Buddy – fucking _Buddy_ – that this wouldn’t be an option, that no one would ever want to… that she’d have to go to a bank somewhere (not that she’d been thinking about it as a right now thing) – but if that was what marriage was then… then she wanted no part of it.  Pretending to be sweet, and failing, and pretending to be sexy, and failing, and always, _always_ being _wrong_ , even when _he_ was to one who’d…

That wasn’t for her.

Maybe the whole thing wasn’t for her – maybe she was fucked up in some invisible way – that would explain why the only person she’d ever…felt like herself with, the only person she was comfortable with, was… Jesus, maybe she was just as twisted as he was.

The timer beeped.

Three little crosses, all in a row.  You are one hundred percent knocked up girlie. 

“Mazel Tov,” Amy says to the empty room, and then finds herself laughing.

Of course.  Of _course_.

It’s really not fucking funny, but what does that matter?

She sits down, very slowly, leaning back against the bath tub.  She has to wait until she stops giggling before she can make the call she knows she has to make.

Fortunately, he picks up on the first ring.  “Amy,” he says, and thank god, he really does sound glad it’s her.

“Sorry, Ben, I know it’s early.”

“Not a problem.  What’s up?”

“The offer, yesterday, it’s solid right?  No matter _what_ happens?”

“Please, you think either of us want the job of holding Dan’s leash?”

“So, is that why you want me, to – ”

“No.  We had you in mind from the start – and if Dan’s who you’re worried about, don’t be.  We outnumber him.”

“It’s not that,” she says, (though maybe it should be, maybe he won't want her around any more, who knows?).  “It’s… I just need to know that it’s solid.”

“If it’s about what Kent said, Amy, he doesn’t actually know anything… and he’d be the first to tell you correlation is not causation.  Or some shit.”  There’s a pause, and Amy has no idea what to say.  “ _Is_ it about what Kent said?”

Of all the people she thought she’d have this conversation with, Ben was never one of them.  “Maybe.  I don’t know.  Maybe.  I haven’t –”

“Well, one, I don’t give a fuck, and two, I don’t give a fuck, and three… it doesn’t change anything.  And it won’t for the others.”

“Even – it doesn’t matter.  Thanks, Ben.”

He takes a breath, and then says in a voice that might actually be sincere.  “You okay, kid?”

“I don’t know,” Amy says, and this, she thinks, _this_ is hysteria, this feeling like everything around her has shaken loose.  “But I’ll… I’ll talk to Selina today.”

She hangs up and dresses for work.  They’re going up to Yale to break ground on the Library, and she needs a warm coat – comfortable shoes – at least one spare battery for her phone.

It’s strange that she’s not freaking out, but somehow… somehow Amy just can’t.  It feels like a foregone conclusion, something that was set in motion long before she agreed to stay for an extra drink.

So she goes to Yale with Selina and tries to manage the ensuing press disaster (there’s always _something_ ), and doesn’t even react when Selina blames her for it.  (Well, she texts Ben to tell him she’s in, but he doesn’t reply as quickly as she’d like).

If Catherine Meyer can make it through it childbirth, Amy definitely can.

(Though Catherine at least has a partner.  Whereas Amy’s been waking up every morning, hot and flustered and desperately trying _not_ to think about Dan while she…deals with things).

She doesn’t expect the campaign, or the way everything suddenly gets sucked into Selina’s wake (though really, she should, she’s done this twice now, and isn’t it always how things go?)

And the timing is… not ideal, but better than it could be.  She’ll have had the baby before the primary season even really ramps up, and well before they hit the general election.  Plus, she’d spent virtually nothing in Nevada, and Selina _had_ been paying her, so… and since technically she was going to be working for BKD, she was actually getting a salary increase.

She doesn’t want to put things off any more.  There was no point in waiting for another Prince Fucking Charming, because, turned out, there was no such thing.

Underneath, they were _all_ toads.

It’s a weird doubleness – seeing Dan every day again, not having to miss him anymore, and yet telling herself be ruthless, to forget about him.

He is not the problem.

He is an _adjacent_ problem, but one she can sort out later.  What she can’t do is make any decision based on him, because that’s the way to find herself marched off to an abortion clinic before she can blink.

A little voice inside still notices every time he smiles at her, and whispers that he wouldn’t do that, not to her, but she squashes it down.  How many times had she made the mistake of…expecting something from him and been disappointed?  She _has_ to assume the worst, because that way it will _hurt_ less.

But even so, she’s not a fucking teenager, and she’s _not_ going to get stuck in the kind of horrorshow with him Sophie had with both of… (jesus, _Sophie_ ), she’s going to be upfront and tell him.

And maybe, maybe if she tells him the right way, he’ll understand – she’s not doing this _to_ him, it’s not about that.  Amy’s done this twice before, she’d given up everything for Selina, she’d dumped Ed, she’d lived, breathed and slept both campaigns, and she is not getting stuck going round and round that particular hamster wheel again.  She wants to do things differently this time.  She wants to at least try.

And maybe, maybe when he tells her to fuck off and walks away and abandons them, then maybe, at long last, she’ll be free of him.

So she takes a deep breath. 

“Dan, you got a sec?”


	20. Ignorance is Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-ep for 5.03. Dan's point of view.

They end up slumped around the conference room table, waiting to conference with Ben and squabbling over the remains of the pizza Richard had ordered. 

Well, Dan squabbles and Jonah squabbles and Richard smiles about margarita pizza being the best, except for Hawaiian, and Amy keeps her eyes firmly on her phone, firing off email after email, and ignoring a seemingly endless stream of text messages.

He wants to pry the damn thing out of her hand and make her talk to him, because dealing with Richard and Jonah simultaneously is not what he signed up for, but she never looks up long enough to give him an opportunity.  If Richard hadn’t put two pizza slices on a paper plate for her, Dan’s not sure she’d have eaten at all. 

She’d barely eaten the day before, he knew, and ordinarily he’d have dragged her away for lunch or something and made her eat something while they strategized – Amy might not think going without food had any effect on her, but he knew better.  She folded in on herself, pulled herself tighter and tighter and got more and more wound up as the day progressed if she didn’t eat. 

But, whatever, it’s not his business. 

The only time Amy looks up is when one of the Nevada campaign flunkies comes in with an apple pie, saying it’s been delivered for them compliments of Buddy Calhoun. 

The Nevada Secretary of State hadn’t made much of an impression on Dan, but obviously it means something to Amy, because she actually puts her phone down to focus on the box for a second.  The pie is from “Sal’s Diner” which, again, means nothing to Dan, but she nods to herself before telling Jonah to take as big a slice as he wants. 

And then she slides down in her chair, still not participating in the conversation, not really, and Ben (fucking finally) connects. 

They have a discussion about Bob being “cyber-security czar” and what they’ll do if it’s revealed that he’s senile, and it’s all kind of spiritless and miserable until Jonah pipes up, “Amy, how did you know?”

“Know _what_?”

“About Bob – you said this morning… what happened last night?”

“Nothing, he was just… confused.  He didn’t know who I was, he kept calling me Jaime.”

“He thought _you_ were Jamie?” Ben says, sounding surprised.

“He probably just forgot the name, it wasn’t –”

“But Jamie was a redhead.”

“What?”  Amy seems genuinely startled.

“Jamie Morgan, she was…she was his girlfriend, or something, back in the day.  They worked together.”

“So, what, she’s the one that got away?”

“She fucking died, Jonah, you walking crapweasel.  I guess, she would have been about your age, Ames, she was engaged to some… no-name Congressman from Missouri or Wisconsin or something –”

“But you said she was Bob’s girlfriend?”

“Who knows what the fuck she was – anyway, there was a car accident, and…”

“And what?” Amy says, and she looks a little freaked.  “He never got over her?”

“I don’t know – obviously she’s on his mind… but so are half the prostitutes in Nevada so who can even tell what that means.”

“He just seemed confused,” Amy says, “Not like… he’d seen a ghost or anything.  Out of it, though.”

“It would have been helpful if you’d said something,” Dan says, “ _Before_ the meeting.”

“I _did_ ,” she says, still not really looking at him.  “None of you listened to me, and… and I couldn’t explain it.”

“Why?  Did he come on to you, Amy, is that what freaked you out so much?”

“Shut the fuck up Jonah.”

“What?  He sees you, you’re his dead girlfriend’s clone, you’re all alone in the office… he might not get that kind of chance ever again.”

“Maybe ambush and attack is your preferred way of getting women, but most people…”

“So, he didn’t then?  That’s what I’d do.”

“No,” Amy says hotly, “And thank fucking god, jesus christ Jonah, there wasn’t anyone else _here_ , I…  And thank you for reminding me just why you’re top of my list of men never to be alone in a room with.”

She’s freaked, Dan can tell.  Because she _had_ been alone, and there had been more going on with Bob than she’d realised, and… well, Jonah’s assumption was reasonable, given what they now knew.  And Amy might be used to fending off standard DC sexual harassment, but dealing with a senile old man, late at night, _alone_ …

But it’s when Ben tells them who Selina is sending to help with the recount court case that she loses it.  Dan’s never met Karen Collins, but he’s heard enough (more than enough) (more than he could pretend to listen to) about her many, _many_ personal failings, and so it’s not entirely a surprise when Amy leans forward and thumps her head against the table once, twice, three times.

“Anything else, Ben?” she says, head still resting against the table edge.  “Are you sending Speaker Marwood too?”

“No, that’s about it.  If you could try not to kill her until _after_ the court case, that’d be great.” 

“I’m not promising anything,” Amy says, and she stands, her phone in one hand, the pie-box in the other.  “Now, I’m going back to the hotel, so -”

“You can’t take the pie!”

“It’s _mine_ Jonah.”

“How is it yours, he sent it to the whole –”

“He didn’t… it’s from the diner he took me to last night, Jonah, that’s why he –”

“You went on a date with Buddy Calhoun?”

“No.”

“Did you?” Ben says, and there’s something in his tone that Dan doesn’t like.  

“No,” Amy says, “I ran into him at the…trust me, that’s not what it was.”

“Could be useful if he has a little crush on you – so long as no one knows about it.”

“Well,” Amy says, “With the three stooges here, it’s safe to say that won’t work – do you really think _Jonah_ would keep his mouth shut?  And besides… if you want honeypot espionage fuckery, get Dan to do it.  Or Richard.  Now, if there’s nothing else, I am going back to the hotel, where hopefully I won’t see any of your faces for the next ten hours or so.”

And then she picks up the box and leaves, ignoring Jonah’s complaints. 

Since Jonah can barely walk, having crippled himself with cowboy boots, he’s likely to take a long time to prepare to go, and so Dan sprints after Amy.  He’s not getting stuck with Jonah and Richard for the evening, no way.

When he catches up to her, she’s leaning against the door of the rental car looking displeased, and her expression doesn’t change when he jingles the car keys at her. 

Still, he’s her ride, and so she gets in the passenger seat without complaining, without even saying anything.

In fact, she doesn’t say anything at all, letting him concentrate on driving and ignoring her phone every time it beeps.  The silence wears on him, and eventually he can’t help himself, he says, “Who’s blasting your phone up – does Selina want advice about Charlie Baird or something?”

“It’s nothing,” Amy says, looking away from him, out the window.

They’re stopped at a red light, meaning he has time to look at her phone properly when she gets another text message and… he sees the name Sophie.  Which, he can’t help himself, he has to ask, “Your sister got a lot to tell you about?”

He’s expecting her to turn around, to snap at him, to yell, but if anything, she turns further away.  “No,” she says, and her voice is completely flat, drained of everything.

It’s not even _fun_. 

When her face…wobbled, the night before, there’d been a moment when he’d wanted to grin, wanted to pat himself on the back, because he knew it.  He _knew_ it, he’d known it for months, _known_ she was just trying to hide that she wanted him…

“Why didn’t you tell me about Bob?”

“What?”

“You knew, last night, you knew he was fucked in the head, so why didn’t you say anything?”

“I tried,” Amy says, “This morning, I –”

“Whatever, Ames – why the fuck didn’t you call me the second you knew he – ”

She doesn’t answer, just reverts to staring out the window, and he keeps going, because now he’s pissed at her.  “You let me go into that meeting without even telling me… what, did you want me to fail?”

“Oh, fuck you,” she says, “I saved your ass – I’m the one who worked out where the missing ballots were, so don’t even –”

“You should have fucking told me, Amy.  Or what, were you too busy flirting with – ”

“Yeah, Dan, that’s why I was doing.  He bought me dinner and a slice of pie, and I don’t know, I just stopped fucking caring about an entire general election, that seems like something I would do – and especially for a man in cowboy boots.”

He parks by the hotel and turns the engine off, trying to work out what to say to her.  They could have _handled_ this, they could come up with a strategy, if she’d only…

“You should have called me – you should have said something the moment you knew –”

“Well I didn’t think that would be a productive use of my time,” Amy says, and he kind of…wishes she sounded angry.  Anger he can deal with, but this deep freeze, like her spine has frozen rigid inside her, is something else entirely. 

“Please,” he says, “It’s not like Sophie was still here, I wasn’t busy.”

He doesn’t _hear_ her inhale, but he sees it, sees the little move she makes to steady herself before speaking.  She sounds _exhausted_. 

“Fine,” she says, “I should have called and I didn’t.  I’m the bad one – is that what you want?  I could have, but to be honest… I just didn’t _want_ to.  So.”

And then she gathers her things – her purse, her phone, the pie – slowly, carefully, taking her time and folding her coat over one arm.  She doesn’t even slam the car door when she gets out, but closes it gently, and walks at a reasonable pace towards the hotel entrance.

He kind of wishes she’d slammed it.

He catches up to her, almost, by her hotel room – except she sees him coming, and redoubles her efforts to get the damn door open.  He’s tempted to lean in and help her with the keycard again, but she gets it to work before he has the chance, and… he has the feeling that if he had, she have pushed him away anyway.

She says goodnight and all but closes the door in his face (and if she’s going to eat the entire half of the pie Jonah left her, that’s probably none of Dan’s business) and his suggestion that they get a drink dies on his lips.

What would he have said to her anyway?

The next morning, when Amy’s still doing her level best to pretend to ignore him, he realises… he doesn’t know _how_ to be nice to her, how to soften her up.  It had happened so slowly, he doesn’t remember how he did it. 

No matter what he tries, joking about it doesn’t seem to work, laughing about it doesn’t work – she just gets smaller and smaller, gives him less and less… and by Thanksgiving he’s decided to stop talking about it entirely, treat it like it never happened.

She’ll get over it. 

She did before.

What’s the occasional fuck gone awry between… it’s not like _he’s_ still pissed at her for dating Ed.

(When she comes to New Hampshire – because he _asked_ – Dan knows that everything’s going to be fine).


	21. Out of Her Shell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy's point of view, 6.04 to just before 6.10.

She hadn’t planned on seeing him.

Or, to be more accurate, she hadn’t planned at all, and as such, Dan was one of the many things she hadn’t thought about.  But Selina had asked her to come to New York… or rather, had _assumed_ Amy was coming to New York with her, had told Marjorie to pay her salary, and…faced with the prospect of sitting at home sending out endless resumes and decamping to her parents’ house so as not to get in the way of the Air B’n’B-ers who rented her flat each weekend and gave her an income (or at least, enough income to cover the payments on the mortgage)…

Well, it wasn’t a difficult decision to make.

(Amy had kept her apartment when she moved to Nevada because it seemed sensible to keep a DC base – she and Buddy were going to need it once he was elected Governor and they started prepping for a senate run after all.  At least that’s what she’d told herself - and him).  (That it meant she still had a home of her own, that she hadn’t put _all_ of her eggs in Buddy Calhoun’s basket, was a complete coincidence).

Besides, Selina _needed_ her.  She was so low that not only had she been sleeping with Andrew, she’d been entrusting _Richard_ with actual responsibility. 

It was ridiculous to feel _protective_ of Selina, Amy knew that – she was tougher than she seemed, tougher than Amy was, that’s for sure – but still.  They hadn’t even noticed she’d had a heart attack!  She _needed_ Amy.

It had crossed her mind that in taking the job, she was moving closer to Dan, but… but she’d made a resolution, and she intended to stick to it.  He was not… he did not _get_ to be a factor in any decision she made, about anything.  A rational assessment of her options made it clear that Selina was her best bet right now, and so that’s where she was going to go.

Besides, New York was such a huge city, it was vanishingly unlikely that she would just…run into him, and after the last eighteen months, it was more than clear that Dan didn’t give a fuck about her.  He wasn’t going to seek her out, she was pretty damn sure about that.  (She tried not to think of the phone call the morning after she dumped Buddy while telling herself this.  It didn’t mean anything).

And yet…

She’s been in New York maybe three weeks when he calls her.

She didn’t actually see the call, too busy trying to arrange a meeting with a possible donor, which was probably for the best, all told.  She’s not sure what she would have done if she’d seen it – thrown her phone on the floor in a fit of panic maybe.  (Except no.  She refuses to panic because of Dan fucking Egan.  But she’s still glad she missed the call).

She doesn’t even listen to his voicemail until a day or two later, and even then… she’s pissed at herself for making it so difficult.  (She tries to remember a time when she could see Dan’s name on her phone and feel nothing… but she can’t). 

He sounds exactly the same – like a sarcastic, insincere, untrustworthy sack of shit. 

He sounds exactly the same.

He suggests going for a drink, to catch up, to chat or whatever, and…and she’s not going to go.  Dan didn’t deserve her time a year ago, and just because she’s broken up with Buddy doesn’t mean anything’s changed.  Besides what do they even have to ‘catch-up’ about?  It’s not like they’re _friends_ , it’s not like she wants to hear all about what a great fucking year he’s had, how many women he’s slept with, how much he loves his job at C _B_ S, how it’s the best job he’s ever had, he’d give up anything in the world to keep it, that’s for sure. 

Why the fuck would she put herself through that?

Why?

But then she goes into work on Monday and has to report back _another_ weekend where all she did was eat take-away and read articles on the internet, and… maybe Gary’s happy spending every waking moment devoted to Selina, but she wants more than that, and going out for brunch with Richard doesn’t cut it. 

She doesn’t know anyone else in New York. 

She’s starting to feel that if she spends any more time staring at the four walls of her apartment she might just lose her mind (at least the wallpaper isn’t yellow). 

And Dan is terrible, Dan will probably make her feel _worse_ , but really… what more can he _do_?  He’s already broken her heart twice and taken her job and slept with her sister and helped humiliate her on national TV.  As much as she’s trained herself to expect the worst, she really can’t think of anything more.  (Obviously, if he so much as mentions Buddy’s name she’ll walk out and never come back, but she thinks he probably knows that).

She’s lonely.

She’s lonely and she also doesn’t want to speak to another human being if she can help it, but the good thing, the _good_ thing about Dan is that she doesn’t have to be nice to him.  If he pisses her off too much she can just throw a drink in his face and storm out (and she might do that anyway, because he definitely deserves it).

So, she calls him.  And though she’s waiting, just _waiting_ , for him to say something awful, all he does is suggest a time and a place.  He sounds warm, like he’s happy to hear from her at last, but Amy’s not getting sucked in by that again – he wants something, that’s all, it’s nothing to do with her.

She _orders_ herself not to get nervous about seeing him, and almost manages it until Richard – fucking _Richard_ – torpedoes her. 

She’s just got off the phone with Madam Tussaud’s, having convinced them to move Selina’s figure, when he sets a muffin down in front of her (Richard did that kind of thing fucking _constantly_ , noticing when she’d gone too long without food or a rest, and it irritated her to death, especially because it’s hard to lose your temper with someone for being considerate).  She thanks him, absently, and tries to tune him out as he says, “You look especially pretty today Amy – do you have a date?”

“No,” she says, shortly, trying to shut him up, but no, it doesn’t work, he rambles on and on about how the black dress brings out her eyes and her hair, and she looks really nice, and if she did want to go on a date she should, any man would be lucky to have her, and oh dear _god_ …

It’s a black dress.  A plain black wool dress.  She chose it _because_ it was plain, Richard’s just… getting ideas.

But she definitely, definitely, doesn’t want _Dan_ getting ideas.  She doesn’t want him to think that _she_ thinks… that she’s imagined going for a drink means more than it is, means _something_ , means he wants her.  She knows better than that, she does, really, she’s not falling into that trap again.  She has been thoroughly disabused of any such notion when it comes to Dan.

But… all the same.

She spends the afternoon arguing with herself and winding herself up, and finally she decides… fuck it, if she’s going to see him, she might as well make sure that she’s comfortable, and so, when she goes out for coffee at five, she ducks into the Target near Selina’s offices and buys a new dress, one she’s _sure_ won’t make Dan think she’s misinterpreted him. 

When she puts it on in the bathroom, she has to admit… it’s not exactly _pretty_ , but who cares, she doesn’t want to be pretty, she’s making a point.  (If someone asked her to put it into words, Amy’s not sure she’d be able to explain what the point is, but whatever… no one can tell what’s going on inside her head).

When Dan hugs her, she stiffens, she can’t help it – it’s too much, all of a sudden, and he’s so _close_ , and though it’s been more than a year, the smell of him makes her heart twist so sharply it almost hurts. 

It lasts only a few seconds, and then he goes to get her a drink, and when he comes back they talk about his professional troubles – at great, infuriating, length and depth.  He doesn’t ask about Buddy, doesn’t ask about Nevada, doesn’t ask why she’s in New York now, and for the first time, Amy’s almost grateful for his boundless self-absorption.

Of course, he’s not going to ask about those things – he would have to care about her as a human being to ask those questions, and Dan never has.  (And, also she’d snap his head off if he did, but… she’s pretty sure it’s mostly the first thing).

 

* * *

 

 

 _That_ morning, she wakes up ahead of her alarm, the way she always does. 

It’s not quite light yet, but she can see well enough to see Dan beside her in the bed – he’s almost on top of her, one arm flung over her body, and his head right by hers. 

She wants to stroke the smooth skin of his shoulder.  She wants to rub his cheek and feel the sharpness of his stubble against her thumb.  She wants to kiss that stupid freckle on his bottom lip, and pull him closer by the hair, and _grind_ down on him until his eyes roll back in his head…

But she doesn’t do any of those things.  She just lies there, looking at his face (it’s been so long since she could just _look_ at him) and waiting for her alarm to go off.  (It’s partly that she can’t remember where she left her phone, and partly that… she’s not sure what will happen, what he’ll do).

When it finally goes off, Amy realises it had fallen down the side of the bed, and rolls over to fish it out.  Dan must have been…more awake than he looked, because he’s right behind her when she finally retrieves the phone, spooning her almost.  He snakes one arm around her, circling her waist and curling up between her breasts, his hand resting, wide and warm and open, over her collarbone. 

“Five minutes,” he says, and he sounds so petulant, so _young_ , that Amy wants to laugh.  But it’s too early to fight with him, and she can feel from the heaviness in his body that he’s still mostly asleep, and so all she says is, “Okay.”

Dan’s lips curve in what might be a smile then, and he nuzzles her neck, the soft pressure of his breath on her skin making her shiver. 

She feels _bruised_.  She’s been walking around for months, trying not to show where it hurt, trying not _to_ hurt if she could help it, but this is different, like all the things she’s been trying to hide have come right to the surface, as though Dan’s fingers have opened her all the way up and now the marks are right there on her skin. 

It’s _good_.

With Buddy, by the end, she felt like it was all inside, boiling up and sore, poison seeping through her bloodstream and out of her mouth because there was nowhere else for it to go.  _Everything_ hurt.

Now, she’s bruised, but for the first time in… in a long time, it feels like a bruise that’s healing.

Still, she has to meet Selina, she has a job to do, and… and she doesn’t want to be there when Dan wakes up.  If he acts like himself… if he says the kind of things she knows he can, she just doesn’t think she can take it.  She can’t let him rip a wound right through her, not again, and so, once she’s sure he’s gone back to sleep, Amy slips out of his bed, gathering her clothes as quietly as possible and making a run for it.

When she sees her reflection in the elevator mirrors, she laughs.  She looks… she looks kind of crazy, in all honesty.  The night she spent… well, not sleeping, is visible on her face, her hair is a mess, and yet… she can’t stop smiling.

Selina will take one look at her and realise she’s smiling the smile of the ‘just laid,’ that’s for sure.

She needs to get her shit together.

Fortunately, Dan lives in the kind of yuppie paradise that has a gym and, more pertinently, a blow-dry bar, on the ground floor, and they’re open. 

She doesn’t even care that the hairdresser can guess exactly what kind of night Amy’s had – the woman’s a professional, and she gets Amy’s hair washed and perfectly dried in less than twenty minutes. 

She takes an uber to Selina’s office, and steals in as quietly as possible.  Not even Gary is there yet, which is a relief – she can grab her black dress out of her desk drawer and get changed in the bathroom. 

She tries not to look at her reflection, tries not to think about it too much, but she can see them – the marks left by Dan’s mouth, on her neck, behind her ear, on her breast… She shakes herself out of…what, some kind of post-sex fugue state, and puts her dress on.

If she keeps thinking about him she’s not going to be in any state to work, and with Leon West still posting extracts of Mike’s diary, work is very much what’s needed.  She has to put him out of her mind, it doesn’t matter _what_ he said.

“ _There’s nothing about you I don’t like._ ”

It didn’t matter that her heart had clenched inside her like a fist when he said that, it didn’t matter that he’d put a smile on her face that won’t go away, what mattered was…

It was Dan.  And she wasn’t going to make the mistake of thinking that sex actually mattered to him, that _she_ actually mattered to him, that way madness lay.

So, she went back into the office and pulled up that day’s Washington Post on her iPad.

 

* * *

  

Things improve very quickly – the true story regarding Tibet comes out, and suddenly Selina Meyer is the flavour of the month.  Her book rockets to the top of the best-seller list, and Amy actually gets proper job offers.   
  
None of them, admittedly, are of any interest, but when she goes home for Christmas she can tell her parents that things are going well without feeling like she’s lying through her teeth.

She lays low over Christmas, trying not to fight with Sophie and not to get in the way of the kids when they want the TV.  Normally the quiet days would start to drive her crazy, but she must be run down or something, because spending most of the day eating and sleeping is all she actually wants.

Two days after Christmas, she goes with her Mom to the sales – it’s not something she _wants_ to do, but her Mom is convinced they need some ‘girl-time’ and, mercifully, Sophie is working an all-day shift. 

Her Mom buys Amy two dresses and a top, as well as a pair of shoes for herself, and then suggests they get coffee somewhere, since she’s exhausted.  If it means an end to the shopping, Amy’s more than happy to cooperate, and so she steers them towards her favourite place.

She didn’t expect to see Dan there.

(Maybe she should have, because it was _their_ favourite place when they worked together, but… it’s not like he’s prone to nostalgia).

Of course, because he’s _Dan_ , he swoops down on them and insists that they join him at his table, and charms her mother in a way that is almost disturbing to watch. 

It’s the first time she’s seen him since that night, and she’s… she finds herself shy with him.  Which makes no sense.  It’s not like she has expectations, it’s not like she thinks he’s changed at all, and yet… she’s not entirely sure how to look at him. 

But he insists on paying for their drinks, and brings her her hot chocolate (complete with cream) with a flourish, and she can’t help it, she smiles at him, though she knows she shouldn’t. 

Not that her mother notices any of the non-verbal tension, picking up on subtext never having been her greatest skill.  “Were you in DC over Christmas, Dan?” she says.  “You should have come to us, Amy, why didn’t you invite him?”

She doesn’t say what she’s thinking, which is… over her dead body.  Thanksgiving was bad enough, though no doubt her mother has decided to forget all about it.

“Oh,” Dan says, with a smile so ingratiating she wants to slap him, “Going to my family wasn’t an option this year, since we’re setting up the new business.”

He’d mentioned something about this, when they spoke on the phone before, but… she’d thought it was just an idea. 

“We just decided on the name – BKD – and we’ve been arranging an office, and a logo, and it’s just been too busy.”

She wants to laugh at the name, but doesn’t – she’ll do that later – and her mother continues innocently, “So you’ve left New York?  It made me feel so much better knowing Amy had a friend there.”

“Mom,” she says, carefully not making eye-contact with him, “It’s not even an hour away on the plane, it’s not like –”

“It’s not like when you were in Nevada, honey, I know,” her Mom says, and she looks misty.  “We just missed you.  You were away for so long, and… you’ll both understand when you’re older, but it’s hard for me not to worry when my little girl is so far away.”

“Mom –”

Amy starts, but doesn’t finish, because Dan interrupts in… a rather unexpected way.

“You know,” he says, “ I didn’t like it either.  And I think I might be able to help you with that, Mrs Brookheimer.”  Amy rolls her eyes at him – she’s all too well aware of his opinion of Buddy – but he continues all the same.  “I think Amy might be re-considering New York.”

“What?”

Knowing her mother and her propensities, Amy squashes the incoming romantic speculation as quickly as possible.  “You’re talking about the job?”

“Ben was going to call you – remember I said there might be something?”

Dan’s leaning back in his chair, but his eyes are fixed on her face, and Amy gets the feeling that this conversation is happening on at least three different levels simultaneously.  She’s not entirely sure what question she’s answering when she says, “Yeah, I do.  But I thought… I didn’t think you’d be in a position to make… job offers or bring in a fourth person yet.”

“Oh, I talked them round,” he says, and winks at her. 

“Does that mean you’re coming home, Amy?”

“Mom,” she says, “We haven’t had a… proper conversation about it yet.  I don’t know.”

“You have been with Selina for so long, but… oh honey, it would be so wonderful to have you back with us, nearby.  It’s all I could want – especially now that Sophie’s a supervisor.  I’m so proud of you both.  Did you tell Dan about her promotion?”

And her mother burbles on, all about Sophie reaching the coveted status of night-time supervisor, and how hard she’s worked and how much she deserves it, and Dan makes the right noises, and Amy… stares at the table.  She doesn’t want to talk about Sophie, but there’s no point in asking her mother to stop, so she maintains a steady expression and tries not to reach for her phone.

Which is when she feels Dan’s hand, on her knee, on her thigh, warm and solid, and she doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing.  When she looks up, his facial expression is… baffling.  You’d never know he was groping her in front of her _mother_ , he gives nothing away, not even when he spreads his fingers out and _squeezes_.

It feels… it feels really fucking good, is the worst part.  If Amy was even a little surer of where she stood with him… but she isn’t, and so she puts her hand over his, stopping him. 

Only he doesn’t react the way she expected.  Rather than pull away, he turns his hand, threading his fingers through hers, playing with her and not letting go, not until he stands up to leave. 

He puts his coat on and breathes down her neck as he says, “Ben’s going to call you about a meeting in a week or two, once the office is actually up and running.  You’ll come?”

(For a moment, Amy’s tempted to make a _filthy_ joke, and there’s a spark in Dan’s eyes that makes her wonder if he’s having similar thoughts…)

“Yeah,” she says, “I think so.  I will.”

“Okay,” Dan says, “I’ll hold you to that.”  He squeezes her shoulder, and then says, “It was lovely to see you again Mrs Brookheimer.  I’ll text you the details, Ames.”

And then he’s gone. 

And Amy can’t help it, she can feel herself smiling the biggest, goofiest smile, and she shouldn’t, she knows she shouldn’t, she knows _him_ , but…

“Oh sweetheart,” her mother says, looking genuinely worried.  “It was never going to work with Buddy, was it?”

She looks at her hands for a moment.  “I really did _try_ , Mom.  I did.”

Her mother sighs, and smooths her hair down.  “I know you did.  But he never seemed to make you smile, not like –”

“That’s not – I don’t want to talk about that.”

“I just want you to be happy.”

“I know, Mom.”

“Now what do you say we stop off at the store on the way home and get some ice-cream?”

Amy laughs and says yes, because ice-cream really does sound good right about now, and they leave. 

When she checks her phone a few minutes later, she sees Dan’s sent her a photo of the BKD logo.  She tells him it’s the worst name for a consultancy she’s ever heard, and suddenly they’re texting, back and forth, teasing and taunting each other the way they used to before…everything.

She will come in for that meeting.


	22. Belle of the Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-Show. Amy goes to her first Inaugural Ball.

Five balls.

Five balls, and photo opportunities, and trying to keep the various members of the Meyer clan from making a scene, while keeping Selina as much in the spotlight as possible. 

Amy’s not paid enough for this job.  (She has a feeling she’s going to repeat that thought many times in the coming years).  (It’s still worth it).

She preps for Inauguration Day like it’s any other campaign event.

They aren’t allowed to move into the White House or the EEOB until after the inauguration has taken place, which makes things unnecessarily complicated, to say the least.  They’ll be moving to government issued laptops and blackberries, but they’re allowed one crate of…stuff each. 

(Amy doesn’t even want to _know_ what’s in Gary’s, though she’s fairly confident Mike’s is just snacks).  So, when she packs her crate, she makes space for a garment bag, a pair of heels (not her usual spikes, because she’s going to be on her feet all night, meaning she needs something she can walk in), and a tiny, tiny purse.

She tells herself she won’t have time to feel the cold, being whisked from motorcade to ballroom and back again, and almost manages to believe it.  She _could_ bring a wrap or something, but that would mean one more thing to keep track of, and she’s going to have more than enough on her plate already.

With all of her heart, she wishes she’d been able to convince Selina to bring in someone at least half way competent to help manage communications, but getting Selina to sit down and _think_ about how the office should work had been almost impossible.  It had taken far more arm-twisting than Amy liked to think about to convince her to interview Sue Wilson for the post of diary secretary.  (Someday soon she and Selina were going to have a talk about Gary’s territorial issues).

She has a twenty minute window, between Hughes signing his first set of executive orders and the departure of Selina’s motorcade, to change her clothes and make herself ready for a ballroom. 

Because she’d been thinking more about practicalities than anything else, her dress isn’t the glistening, silken dream every woman dreams of wearing to her first ball, but it will do.  Made of a material sturdy enough not to crease the moment she sits down, the rich royal blue sets off her eyes, and that will have to be enough.  (Her earrings are small, but they sparkle, which is something).

She has the feeling it’s going to be a long night.

Selina is apparently unhappy with Catherine’s choice of attire, something she comments on, oh, half a dozen times, on the drive over. 

Her mood does not improve when she is _told_ that she has to dance with Andrew at the first ball, because the photo will provide a healing image for America.  (Amy does her best to convince her to go through with it, and tries not to say that if Andrew and Selina seeming like a contented, loving couple is the cure, it is definitely worse than the disease).

They make it through the next three balls almost without incident, and Amy manages to snatch a handful of fries, some unidentified green stuff that might be hummus that has been terribly, terribly abused, and a chicken wing, along the way.

When they reach the fifth ball of the night, she is more than ready to kick her shoes off under the table, eat whatever canapes are left, and have a goddamn _drink_.  It’s the least stuffy of all the night’s events, full of staffers from the campaign and people from the Hill. 

Naturally, since none of them matter a goddamn, Selina plans on keeping her appearance brief – she shows up, shakes hands with the DNC Chair, checks in with some of the more worthwhile Representatives, and then signals to Gary that she wants to get the fuck out of there.  Andrew doesn’t leave with them, which is a small mercy.

Amy had arranged tickets for a select few from the campaign – fundraisers and strategists who might be amenable to joining Selina’s cause in years to come (you never know) – and one of them, Ed Webster, turns out to be unexpectedly useful.

He must see it in her face how tired she is, because he offers to go to the bar and find out what food is left in the kitchens.  She doesn’t think he expected that Mike and Gary and Scott and basically everyone would chime in and request that he order food for them too, but he takes with reasonably good will, which is something.

In the meantime, she touches up her make-up and checks her phone (her new, executive-branch issued phone), just in case something has gone wrong already. 

She feels kind of…hollow, drained, with that vague dissatisfaction that comes when a long-awaited event doesn’t quite live up to expectations.  She hopes it’s just that she’s hungry.

“Little ole Amy Brookheimer.”

Or maybe it’s that she knew, somehow, that she would never get through this night without running into him.  Some things in life are depressingly inevitable.

Dan takes the seat beside her, Ed’s seat, and grins at her.  “You’ve been avoiding me,” he says.

She tries not to roll her eyes, and fails.  “I refuse to waste time I could spend thinking about, oh, anything else, on working out how to avoid you.”

“Were you too busy planning exactly how to decorate your brand new office?”

“Something like that,” she says, not about to get in a discussion with him about her and Selina’s plans for Clean Jobs.  “How are things in the Ohio…was it fourteenth?  They do say regional politics are the most rewarding.”

He gives her a truly poisonous look, “I won’t be there much longer, and you know it.”

“Yeah, you said that last time we spoke,” she says, wondering what’s taking Ed so long.

 “You know, I have a meeting with Hallows next week.”

“Oooh.  A _meeting_.  Your ladder-climbing is just…overwhelming.”

“Mock all you want, Amy,” he says, stretching out his legs, “I’ll find a way in eventually.”

“Yeah,” she says, “And I almost feel sorry for her.”

“Sure you do,” he says, giving a little sidelong glance under his eyelashes.

“Have you ever, I don’t know, _considered_ using your brain to get ahead?”

“My way’s more fun and you know it.”

“Oh for – fuck, fuck, fuck, all the shitting fucks of –“

Dan stares at her, and she realises that he has no idea who is currently oiling his way towards their table.  Andrew _fucking_ Meyer, who’d stayed even when his ex-wife and daughter were gone, no doubt to skeeze his way into some poor woman’s wallet.

“Amy,” he says, with that tone in his voice that makes her skin crawl.  “Have I mentioned how lovely you look this evening?”

“No,” she says, trying not to visibly shudder, “Must have slipped your mind.”

“Really, it’s a great dress.  I was hoping to talk to you about some opportunities to -”

“You know,” she says, wanting to nip this in the bud before it even starts, “This is my very first Inaugural Ball, Andrew, and Dan here just asked me to dance, so… I’m going to have to skip it.”

He accepts it with good grace, somewhat to her surprise, so she stands and drags Dan out of there, trying to seem excited and girlish and all the things she isn’t. 

He gives her this _look_ , and says, “What, were you scared he’d roofie you?”

She cringes at the mere thought of it, and Dan laughs.  “No,” she says, “I don’t have the kind of bank balance that would catch his eye, he’s just…vile.”  (And all too willing to take advantage of Selina’s new position, she’s sure that’s where this newfound burst of amiability is coming from).

He pulls on her hand so she’s standing in front of him, startling her, and she finds herself saying, “We don’t actually have to – that was just an excuse.”

Dan shrugs.  “Might as well give him his money’s worth.”

“I’m sure he’s found a more welcoming hole to slither into already.  Speaking of which… off you go,” she says, gesturing in the opposite direction.

“Do you _know_ how to dance, Amy?”

“Swaying in one spot is not what I consider a skill.”

Dan’s hand is on her waist then, and he pulls her in just a little bit.  “That’s what I thought,” he says, his voice low and private in her ear.  “Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it.”

He’s wrong.

He’s so wrong.

She steps on his feet twice, and she can’t get the hang of the rhythm, and after about forty seconds Dan huffs out an irritated sound and says, “Stop trying to lead, just let me -”

“But I don’t know where I’m going!”

She thinks she’s made a reasonable point, but he just squeezes her waist and says, “Well, it would help if you looked at me.”

“Fine!” 

She feels far more…exposed than she should when she looks up at him.  She finds herself wishing that she’d worn higher heels, that Dan would see a networking opportunity and leave, that her phone would ring with terrible news, because everything about this feels…intimate in a way she doesn’t want. 

And it’s _not_ intimate, that’s the thing, it’s nothing, it’s meaningless, but…

She’s infuriatingly conscious of how warm is his hand is in hers, of how steady his steps are, of the weight of his arm against her back.  And now that she’s looking at him, it’s so easy too, like he’s telling her exactly where to go, how to move, without having to say anything, and…

He probably only learned to dance the better to manipulate the type of idiots who think this kind of thing is _romantic_.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Ed approaching their table, with what looks like a bottle of champagne in a bucket, and suddenly irritating and being irritated by Dan drops right off her list of priorities.  There’s _wine_ to be drunk, and food to eat, and this is maybe the one night she’ll have for god knows how long where she can actually _relax._

But before she can extricate herself, some idiot intern from the Hughes campaign flashes a photo of them (with a camera that’s roughly the size of Rhode Island) (adding to her displeasure, when the overgrown ape sends her a copy of the picture the next day, she discovers that she looks… _happy_.  She files the image away deep in her hard drive, and makes a resolution never to look at it again).

She pulls away from Dan as soon as the song is over, determined to make her way to the cheeseboard she’s seen materialise on their table.  “Thanks,” she says, “This was completely unnecessary.”

“Sure, you hated every bit of it.”

“The part where I stepped on your foot wasn’t so bad,” she says, and turns to walk away.

“Ames,” he says, surprising her.  When she looks back at him he’s smiling in a way she wishes she could hate more.  “It is a great dress.”

“Whatever.”

She goes back to her table, and drinks most of a bottle of champagne with Ed.  She’d met him on the campaign trail a few times, and she likes him – he can construct a full sentence without being offensively racist or sexist, which is a rare trait in DC, and he actually pays attention when she speaks.

Admittedly, most of what the talk about for the next hour or so is filibuster reform and green jobs and what she’ll do if Selina ever has to use her casting vote, but… it’s not like there are many people who can talk about those things intelligently, or will let her talk about them without interrupting.

They’re going to do such great things, she just knows it.

Eventually though, she finds herself yawning and propping her head up with one hand, and she can’t even argue when Ed says, “I think we should get you home before you turn into a pumpkin.”

She looks at him steadily for a moment, and has the pleasure of seeing him look just a little flustered, but all she says is, “Ugh – I’m going to be waiting eleven years for a cab.”

Ed shrugs, because she’s not wrong, and says he’ll wait with her.  (He’s a gentleman, unlike some people). 

“You know,” he says, “Maybe next time I’m back in DC we could…go for a beer, or something.”

“Sure,” she says, thinking more about how warm her bed is going to be than the question she’s answering.  “I’d like that.”

He starts telling her about the new office they’re planning to open for the PAC in Boston, and how Andrew Meyer has been really helpful in whatever problem it is that they’ve been dealing with, and Amy finds herself idly wondering just how it is grown adults are able to sustain interest in fundraising for any length of time.

She’s slightly startled when he slips his dinner jacket over her shoulders, but more because she’s unused to men who are actually polite than because she doesn’t like it.  And the cold January air makes her more than grateful.

“We never got to dance,” he says, as a cab (finally) pulls up in front of her.

“Maybe next time,” she says, and goes to give him his jacket back. 

“No,” he says, “Keep it.  It’s cold and… you can give it back when we go for that beer.”

And then he stoops and kisses her cheek. 

It’s so… bashful, so gentle, it makes her smile as she says goodbye to him.  And she doesn’t stop smiling all the way home, not even when her phone buzzes, and she takes it out to read a text-message from Dan.

“Should I buy you a rape whistle to keep the scarecrows away when I’m not around?”

She spends ten minutes trying to come up with a witty response and failing.  Not that it matters.

Dan works for some pissant Ohio congresswoman who can’t even spell dairy right, and she’s chief-of-staff to the first female Vice President.  What he thinks is never going to matter.


	23. Too Tired to Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5.01 - the first time they speak after the election result.

She’s so tired, she can barely hold her head up.She’s been wearing the same dress for, oh, thirty hours at this point, and even worse, the same _bra_. 

And yet, she knows she won’t be able to sleep, not any time soon.She’s too keyed up, too worried, too exhilarated to stop thinking for even a minute.Her mind is racing, and her skin is…itching, and she needs…something, to settle her stomach.

Somehow, she never would have thought that in the middle of a major constitutional crisis she’d mostly be thinking about how hungry she is and how her feet hurt and when she’ll get a chance to answer at least some of her text messages.

It’s after eight by the time she gets home, and she’s so tired walking up the steps to her building that it feels like an effort even to take out her keys.Selina wants her back in the White House first thing the next morning, and for all she probably shouldn’t - she’d walked away from that madness, and rightly so - she knows that she’ll be awake bright and early, ready to do whatever Selina asks.

Except go to Nevada.

She is determined about that.She may well have burned her bridges with KPM already, she needs to stick around DC and come up with a plan for her next steps, she can’t go flying off to the other side of the country just because Selina is having a momentary crisis.

At least, that’s what she’s been telling herself.All day long.  Over and over and over.

When she gets into her apartment, she’s too drained even to hang her keys up, faceplanting directly in her couch and kicking her heels off.Without raising her head off the cushions, she fumbles with the zip on the back of her dress, dragging it down just far enough that she can her hands on the clasp of her bra and open the damn thing.The relief is instantaneous.

But she doesn’t exactly get to enjoy it. 

Because almost as she does, she hears someone clear his throat.And when she looks up, Dan is leaning in her doorway, his expression more self-satisfied than usual.“You know,” he says, “Usually I have to at least buy someone dinner before she’ll put on that kind of show.”

“Fuck off,” she says, and groans as she tries to push herself into a sitting position.“You could have said something.”

“Because I should have anticipated that you’d do a little strip tease?I thought you knew I was here.”

“Obviously not,” she says, sounding more grumpy than she’d intended.It’s not that she doesn’t want to see him, exactly, it’s just… she’s tired and frustrated and she doesn’t have the energy for a sparring match right now.(Well, no, that’s not true - she _does_ have the energy, she always has the energy to argue with Dan, she’d just rather not).“Anyway, what do you want?”

“What do _I_ want - need I remind you who ran out on a national broadcast _last_ _night_?You fucking abandoned me, Ames.”

“And because of that you had even more time in the spotlight.I think you were fine,” she says, “You got to announce the results to the entire country, I mean that’s got to be on _your_ bucket list.” 

“Whatever,” Dan says, “Why didn’t you answer my texts?”  
  
She snorts a little, because the idea of Dan obsessively checking his phone for replies is incongruous enough to be entertaining, even if it was only for work.“I didn’t ‘not answer’ them,” she says, “I just…hadn’t answered them yet, it’s been a full day.”

It is kind of weird - she actually can’t remember the last time they were out of contact for twelve whole hours - she texts her _sister_ less than she texts Dan.And she definitely never texted Ed anything near as often.

“Well,” he says, “Are you going to fill me in?"  
  
“I was going to call or something,” she says, “I just…I’m tired, I want a _shower_ first.”

“Okay.” Dan gives her a smile she doesn’t know how to think about.“Go ahead, I’ll order take-out.”

For a moment, she’s tempted.

She could shower and put on pyjamas and they could relax on her sofa and drink beer and she could tell him all about her day and get his opinion of what her next steps should be and…

And that’s way too intimate.She can’t have him feeling that ‘at home’ in her place, it’s too… he’s not… 

The mere fact that it is almost irresistibly appealing means she shouldn’t do it.

“No,” she says, “If we’re doing this I want a real drink.Give me five minutes and we can go to that Chinese place down the street.”

Dan holds his hands up in acceptance, and Amy stands, wincing as her feet touch the floor.“I won’t be long,” she says, “Don’t… _touch_ anything.”

“Can I at least sit down, your ladyship, or is that too much to ask?” 

She rolls her eyes at him, and gestures that he can sit, before making her way to the bathroom.The sight that greets her isn’t pretty. 

Her mascara - in fact all of her make-up - has worn off over the course of the day, leaving her with deep, dark circles under her eyes.   She can smell stale sweat, probably from the night before - it was hot under the stage lights - and her hair _feels_ like it will be greasy soon.

Still, she doesn’t have much time, so she scrubs her face and ducks in and out of the shower.She shouldn’t really bother with make-up - it’s not a _date_ , it’s just dinner - but she smooths on lipgloss and undereye brightener anyway, scolding herself the entire time. 

On much the same principle, she _doesn’t_ put on yoga pants and a tank top, comforting though they would be, opting instead for a shirt dress with a full skirt and flats.(She doesn’t usually wear flats around Dan, preferring to minimise his height advantage… but her feet need the respite).

When they get to the restaurant, she doesn’t even bother looking at the menu, telling the waiter to bring them two of the set meals and the jasmine-flavoured cocktails they pretend are authentically Chinese.

She’s been coming to this place for years, on and off, with it being so convenient, and so he doesn’t take offence - at least, not visibly.The moment he’s gone, Dan pounces.

“So, are you back in the White House?” 

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

“Well,” he says, “There would be obvious advantages for me.”

“You think _I’m_ going to give _you_ access?”

“I know you will,” he says, and winks.“Besides, I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Keep your dirty paprika money away from me,” she says, trying not to react.“And I’m not going back.”

“Really,” Dan says, his tone dripping with disbelief.

“Yes, really,” she says, “I don’t care how many times she asks, I am not jumping in to try and…fix everything for her.You know it won’t work, and…she needs to find another lifejacket.”

“So she asked then?”

“She wants me to go out to Nevada, help run the recount effort.”

“And you’re definitely not going to go, not all the way out to _Nevada_ , when it could save Selina’s Presidency, no, that doesn’t sound anything like you.”

She’s very, very tempted to poke him in the eye with her chopstick.“Stop talking like you know better than me.I’m not going.”

“So, you’ll just let her twist in the wind, really?”

“No,” she says.“They’ll find someone, I’m sure Ben has a list of names.”

“Am I on it?”  
  
“Please,” she says, “As though they’d let you anywhere _near_ the recount without my supervision.”

“I’m better than pretty much everyone on that team, and you know it.”

She _does_ know it, which is why she chooses not to respond directly, saying, “Maybe they’ll send Jonah.”

“I think even Selina would reserve Godzilla for a city she actually  _wants_  to be destroyed.”

“I don’t know,” she says, “It’s Nevada - it’s not like anyone would be able to tell the difference.”

“That might not be the right tone to strike when you’re trying to get their Secretary of State to allow a recount.”

“Oh God,” she says, “That reminds me. _Richard_ is some kind of savant on election law - he has _two_ PhDs.”

“From where, American University?” 

“The other one’s in veterinary science.”

“Well, I can see that,” Dan says, eyes dancing, “Goats don’t fuck themselves.”

“I think they do actually,” she says, “And… _gross_ , don’t be -”

“At least Jonah has someone to give him some tips at long last.”

“If you keep this up, I’m going to leave.”

“No,” Dan says, “You won’t.Besides, don’t you want to hear about _my_ day?”

“No,” she says, though she doesn’t sound convincing.“Weren’t you just trying to get your face on TV again for eleven hours?”

“Something like that,” he says, “But I’m good at it, you know I am.”

“Of course you are,” she says.It’s probably the alcohol or something, but for once she feels like being truthful.“Millions of people looking at you all at once, it’s probably a bigger high for you than cocaine.”

“Whereas you just _hate_ it, don’t you, Amy, all those people acting like your opinion is so very, very important?”

“It’s not the same,” she says, “I don’t have a part of my brain missing.”

“You get nervous, don’t you?”

“No,” she says, somewhat truthfully.“I just…don’t get off on it the same way you do.”

“You know,” he says, “Greg said I could have a future in it.”

There’s something in his tone that… Amy takes a second to look at him properly.As long as she’s known him, Dan’s never cared about any of his jobs in and of themselves, they’ve been stepping stones to greater things, more money, a better reputation.Even being Selina’s Campaign Manager, he’d wanted that more for the title than for the actual work (at least, that’s what she’d told herself). 

This seems different.

“Are you thinking of a career change?”She takes a sip of her drink mulling it over.“Because I don’t think right after an election, when they’re throwing literally _anyone_ in front of a camera, is the time to make that big a shift.”

“Are you saying they’re only using me because they’re desperate?”

“No, I’m saying… that they’ll use you now, doesn’t mean they’ll use you in six weeks, when things have calmed down, not unless…you give them something extra.”

“I don’t think I’m Greg’s type,” he says, as though he’s seriously thinking it over.

“That wasn’t what I meant, Dan, jesus, there are other ways to get in with people, you don’t always have to - look, I think you’re right, you _could_ be good at it, so…maybe lead with that for once.”

There’s something in his face that she didn’t expect.“It’s okay if you’re going to miss me, Ames,” he says, “It’s not like I’ll be leaving town.”She gives into her impulses and throws her napkin at him, but it just makes him smile.“I mean, a solid fifty percent of that was complimentary, so you _must_  want me to stick around.”

“You’re only good on tv because when you’re on camera no one can tell you don’t have a soul.”

“I don’t know,” Dan says, “Doesn’t seem to bother you any.”

“I am sleep-deprived and tipsy,” she says, “Don’t take it as an endorsement.”

They talk all the way through the meal, speculating about who Selina might send to Nevada, assuming she has to hire in talent (Amy is _sick_ of hearing about Candi Caruso already, dear god), what Sydney’s reaction to all of this will be, whether anyone other than Richard understands Nevadan election law…

She’s so tried, she loses track of time, letting Dan keep her in the restaurant until closing time, and even talking with him for a further ten minutes outside her building.(She has _no_ willpower when she’s tired, is the problem - if he asked her to fly to Alaska with him, she’d probably go, purely because she lacks the strength to sustain any disagreement with him).(It crosses her mind that it is a very, very good thing that Dan doesn’t know this).

Eventually though, she must have yawned one too many times, because Dan cuts himself off mid-stream, and says, “When does Selina expect you in again?”

“Seven thirty,” she says, dreading it. 

“Well, text me when you’re going to Nevada - I want to be the first to know.”

“I’m not going to -”

“Please,” Dan says, “We’re a _team_ , remember?That won’t work with me.”

“I’ve really thought about it,” she says, “And I’m not getting sucked into that again - I like having a life and time for dinner more than once a week.”

“Sure you do.”She opens her mouth to argue with him, and is cut off by her own yawn.It makes him smile, but all he says is, “I think it’s time for bed pumpkin.”

She makes a face, trying to parse if he’s just being a dick or if he made a Cinderella reference on purpose, and when she realises she’s spent a whole ten seconds on that thought, she knows he’s right.

“Good luck with Greg tomorrow,” she says, and starts to climb the stairs after an awkward pause (it feels like they should…hug, or something, except they don’t hug or kiss or whatever, that’s not what them, it’s just weird to say goodnight to someone and do _nothing_ ).

But on some impulse, she turns halfway up.

“Dan?”

He’d started to walk away, but stops to look back at her.

“If I were to… If I did decide… would you…”

“Would I what?”

It’s stupid.It doesn’t matter what he _says_ , she knows they’re not a team, not really, they’re something… else.

“Never mind,” she says, “I’ll try to respond to messages faster.”

“You better - I don’t hang around outside apartment buildings for just anyone you know.”

“Stalker,” she says, and there’s a softness in her voice she can’t hide, not when she’s this drained.

He gives her that smile again, and says, “Goodnight.”

“Yeah.”

And then she goes upstairs, and gets into bed, and sleeps for a whole five and a half hours, and not long after she’s woken up, she realises she is going to run the recount after all. 

So there’s only one person to call.

“Whatever useless, vain, vapid thing you're doing right now, drop it.”


	24. Accept No Substitutes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3.08-3.09 - Amy helps Dan through his breakdown and takes on the mantle of Campaign Manager.

There’s a moment when she seriously considers leaving Dan to go to the hospital by himself. 

She’d pushed him to sit down for a second, while she gathered her coat and her bag and her scarf and tried to google where the nearest hospital is, and he comments, because he can’t resist, apparently.“You’re fucking buttoning your coat?What are you worried you’ll catch a cold waiting for a taxi?Is it such a fucking _inconvenience_ that I’m dying?”

“You’re not dying,” she says, and extents her hand to pull him out of his seat, though she’s not sure if her tone is reassuring.  She doesn't really care.  “You’re just freaking out, that’s all.”

Men in their thirties who spend every spare moment having sex or in the gym don’t just _die_ , he’s being ridiculous.

“This,” Dan says, slinging one arm over her shoulders and gesturing vaguely with the other, “Is nothing, it’s just a hiccup, I’m not freaking out, Amy, don’t you know me at all?”

“I know you’re too fucking heavy for me to - this isn’t going to work.”

Still, she doesn’t shake him off, thinking he’ll probably fall over again without support.(Maybe, maybe she should have got Mike to go with him, but… but he might have just made things worse, and she…she just doesn’t want anyone else to do it, she doesn't know why).Instead, she gets her arm around _his_ waist, and somehow manoeuvres them out of the hotel room and onto the street.Fortunately for them, the hotel has a doorman, who hails them a cab (despite Dan swearing in his general direction, when Amy says they need to go to the hospital, he’s all sympathy). 

She doesn’t really _like_ this, being tucked under Dan’s arm like some toy, holding him up and playacting as a human crutch.But at the same time, at the same time she knows she can’t let go, can’t re-establish her precious personal space.She can _feel_ him trembling, she’s close enough to feel that, and when she looks at him it crosses her mind just how pale he is.She can see every one of his stupid freckles.(Dan’s always pale, of course, but…not like this). 

She always tries not to think about Dan as a _physical_ person - tries to keep her thoughts focused on his obnoxious personality and absence of soul, his obsession with iPads and shiny watches - but right now, she can’t help herself.Usually, usually he towers over her, taking up so much space in every room that she gets irritated with him, especially when he seems to make a special effort to draw peoples’ eyes.Sometimes she thinks he might starve away and die without attention. 

In the middle of a crisis, his suit is perfect, _of course_ , but there are deep, dark shadows under his eyes, and his hair is a sweaty, ruffled mess.She’s used to Dan all…meticulous, and perfect, everything just so, as though he had a Jeeves to plan his outfits for him, but… he hasn’t even shaved.(She can count the number of times she’s seen him with serious stubble on one hand, and half of them were when they were… well _not_ dating, no matter what she might have thought at the time). 

She has to bark at him to get him to climb into the taxi - partly because he’s out of it, and partly because he seems reluctant to let go of her.(She eventually climbs in on his side and pushes him to move over, rather than waste time walking to the other side of the car).

She googles the symptoms of a heart attack, just in case, (and because she can’t stand listening to him huffing and puffing any more, especially as even when he thinks he might be dying, he still finds time to remind her that Selina picked _him_ for Campaign Manager), and is relieved to find that her initial supposition is probably correct, and he’s just having a panic attack.

The taxi whisks them past Westminster Abbey and the Houses of Parliament, crossing the river and depositing them at St Thomas’ Hospital in only a few minutes.(She spares a thought to be grateful that it’s mid-afternoon rather than rush hour). 

Dan seems slightly calmer too, though he’s clearly in no state to talk to the admissions staff in the Emergency Room, meaning Amy has to do it - she could have done without their looks of pity when she assures them that Dan has health insurance.Still, for all they are comfortably on their high horses of socialised medicine, the staff are efficient, whisking Dan out of the waiting area and into a private room in only a few minutes.There’s a weird moment when the male nurse handling them gives Amy a medical history form, as the next of kin, and she finds herself protesting, “I’m not his wife!”

“Okay,” the nurse says, clearly unshockable, and turns to Dan.“Is it all right for her to be here then?”

“Yes, yes, jesus,” Dan says, “When do I get to see a _doctor_?”

“The doctor can’t do anything until the results of the ECG come back, so the faster you get out of that suit and let me hook you up to the machine -”

"All right, all right," Dan says, fumbling as he tries to unbutton his shirt.

“We’re still going to need that form, by the way,” the nurse says, and Amy rolls her eyes. 

She’s grateful though, because it means she has something to look at while Dan gets undressed.Some of it she can do from memory - she knows Dan’s age, his occupation, his phone number - but the medical history is completely beyond her. 

When she looks up, Dan is lying on the bed, wearing one of those stupid white hospital gowns and with little plastic sensors attached to his arms and legs.She’s never seen someone wring their hands in real life before, but that is what he seems to be doing - if she was looking at a _normal_ person, she’d think that maybe holding her hand would make him feel better…but Dan is ‘The Iceman’ after all, so who knows _what_ he needs. 

She goes through the form with him quickly - she really _doesn’t_ want to know whether he’s taking any medication or not, or how often he drinks, or _any_ of this stuff.He doesn’t even make a joke when she asks for his home address - which is both good, because she _hates_ it when he does that, and bad, because…he must be really not himself. 

The nurse comes back a moment or two after they’ve finished, and scans the readings on the machine.When he tells them it’s not a heart attack, that Dan’s heart readings are normal, she feels like she can finally relax in her chair.She’d known that, of course, it had been obvious, but… still.

It doesn’t make Dan feel any better.In fact, if anything the confirmation that it’s a mental issue, not a physical one, upsets him more, setting him off babbling and talking to her about how he feels (since when does Dan have feelings?) and the campaign and Ray and…

She wishes he’d shut up.

It wasn’t supposed to… he wasn’t supposed to… it had never crossed her mind that Dan would collapse like this, would let the stress build up and build up like this.She manages to distract him - for a very short while - with his iPad, but then she realises that the endless stream of email alerts is just making him worse, and convinces him to put it face down on his tray. 

Which just starts him talking _again_.

She cannot wait to get the fuck out of this hospital - and fortunately, Jonah’s arrival and Selina’s email telling her to come back to the Ambassador’s residence “right the fuck now” gives her an excuse.

He’s going to be fine. 

She reminds herself of this a couple of times over the next few weeks, when Dan very conspicuously does _not_ return to work, and no one seems to know what’s up with him.It’s not like he ever had much sympathy for her when _she_ was upset or embarrassed or… _someone_ had hurt her feelings, that’s for sure.   (At this point in her thought, a little voice inside usually reminds her “Except for when he thought your Dad was dying,” but she ignores it).

Feeling sorry for Dan would be like feeling sorry for bubonic plague or period pains…completely fucking pointless.

And being campaign manager feels _great_ , being able to run things the way she’s always known they should be run and undo Dan’s more idiotic decisions.Admittedly, after a week of trying to coax something useful out of Mike, she’s starting to feel some sympathy for his frustration… which is why she decides to hire in a new comms guy.

As a trial. 

Dan might still come back after all, and she doesn’t want to wind up committed to keeping two of them around, but…just in case.(When she mentions this to Sue, Sue gives her a Look, as though she’s confessed to something deep and emotional.Being Sue, of course, she doesn’t confine herself to just a look, and says, “Have you told Dan that you miss him?")

She interviews three candidates - an asshole who used to do comms from PWC and thinks it’s time for him to take the world of politics by storm (it isn’t); a bright, brilliant graduate from Colombia who has an exquisitely crafted policy proposal on every subject under the sun, but is incapable of expressing herself in less than two hundred words and is therefore fucking useless for Amy’s purposes; and Jackson Fuller.

Ed had recommended him.(It was the only useful thing that had came out of her last conversation with Ed which was…two weeks ago?Maybe.She’s not sure).Jackson isn’t ideal - he responds to every question with a quip (or something that tries to be one), and he’s clearly addicted to his iPad, but he seems to practically _think_ in slogans, which is exactly what she needs right now.

She tells him to meet them in New Hampshire four days ahead of the debate, and dangles the possibility that if things go well maybe, just maybe, there might be the chance of something permanent.

Which is what she tells Selina - partly in an attempt to get her to make up her damn mind regarding Dan.She’d been waffling back and forth on whether to fire him completely or not, and Amy’s tired of it - among other things, she doesn’t need the stress of wondering every day if he’s just going to show up unexpectedly.(And yet, she’s kind of glad he hasn’t come back yet - Gary and Mike and Kent and Ben all respect her, or do a good job of pretending to - getting into a fight with Dan every day wouldn’t help her establish her authority).

She wonders if maybe he’s tried to pitch himself to Danny Chung or Thornhill (somehow, she just can’t picture him wanting to work for Maddox), but tries to put it out of her mind. 

Selina says she’ll think about it over the weekend, and call him if necessary, which… is for the best.Amy really _doesn’t_ want Dan to think she was the one who got him hired back, but she also…wants the state of limbo to end.And she definitely wants to have _someone_ around who understands her jokes.

When they get started on debate prep she feels good - confident - relaxed even, for all that Furlong won’t stop hitting on her.No one likes Jackson, but she doesn’t really care - it’s nice to have someone around who brings her coffee and listens to what she says and doesn’t have a fit of the vapours every time a bad headline comes up.

The only ones who warm to him are Catherine and Dan, of all people.He shows up on the first day of debate prep, warm and relaxed and suspiciously calm.He’s so unlike himself - even his _clothes_ are different - that Amy half wonders if he’s running some kind of scam, trying to lure her into a false sense of security by seeming non-threatening.(Or maybe she has a guilty conscience…)

He barely speaks during the prep sessions, hanging back and only raising his voice when he has something directly relevant to say.He doesn’t seem to notice when one of their colleagues says something stupid (which they reliably do at least once every twenty minutes or so), and he’s even being nice to _Mike._ (Amy can’t help it, she finds herself…seeking him out, wanting to share a joke just by making eye contact, but…he’s too withdrawn, she can’t seem to catch his eye).

Selina even notices, which is a bad sign.A candidate with an upcoming primary debate and an involuntary twitch should not be noticing the personal problems of her staff, and yet…

They’re driving to a ‘Feminists of New Hampshire’ event, with Gary and (of course) Catherine in tow, when she says, “Amy, what do you think of Dan?”

“I think he’s the same shitty…he’s always been.”(She hopes).

“He was very quiet today.”

“It’s probably just nerves,” Gary says, “He must be feeling nervous, you know, coming back after…his episode.”  
  
Selina pulls a face.“Episode?He went full Eagleton, only without the excuse of living in the seventies.”(Amy doesn’t say anything to this.With Selina having spent time in a “spa,” she’s pretty certain there is no right way to respond to a question about mental health).“And let’s not even get into the hobo beard.”

“I think it suits him,” Catherine says, much to Amy’s surprise.(Please god let her not be developing a crush on Dan - Amy can think of many, many possible outcomes of _that_ scenario, and none of them are good).

“Darling, really?”

“He looks like a…college professor, you know, the one who gives everyone’s favourite classes.”

“Ame?” Selina says, looking at her expectantly.“What do you think?”

(She has very carefully _not_ thought about Dan’s beard, or how he looks with it, and is irritated that she has to start now).

“I wouldn’t say a professor,” she says, after thinking for a moment, “More like one of the PhD students who’s always happy to ‘tell you about his research.’Or even better, your research, so he can steal it.”

“That’s very…specific,” Selina says, looking significantly at Gary.

“Maybe we can use it,” Amy says, “We can tap into the obnoxious hipster demographic.He’d probably grow a man-bun if you asked him to.”

“No!” Selina says, “I already told him to shave the damn thing off, the last thing he needs is _more_ hair.This is a professional outfit, we don’t want to look like…beatniks.”

That pretty much ends the discussion, though Amy makes a note to have Jackson research some more up to date references for Selina to make - they can’t have her talking about hippies in front of real people.

But the conversation comes back to her the next morning.She’d come into the office to prep for debate prep - making sure the room was set up, the flip charts were ready, all that kind of thing - and noticed that the poster of Joe Thornhill had fallen down. 

She wants it to be even with all of the others, and so she stretches up, trying to stick it back on the wall and getting no where.It’s that irritating thing where it’s just low enough that she can reach it with the very tips of her fingers…and high enough that she can’t actually exert any force.Sometimes she really hates being short.

She’s swearing quietly to herself when she feels someone come up behind her, putting his hand over hers and sticking the poster down against the wall.

“Thanks,” she says as she turns. “That was -”She starts when she sees Dan, and has to fumble on, “Sorry, I thought you were, I thought you were Jackson.”

“Sorry,” he says, and gives her a smile.(She can still see his dimples through his beard - how is that even _possible_?).“Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t scare me,” she says, rolling her eyes, “I just…didn’t recognise you.”

Which is kind of weird, all by itself - she’d have thought she’d remember the sound of his tread, the scent of his aftershave, but for whatever reason… she didn’t.It’s like he’s brand new.

Dan smiles again, “Selina already told me to shave it off, so…I won’t be a stranger for long.”

“Right,” she says, and takes a moment to look at him properly.She hasn’t been this close to him in a while.(London…doesn’t count).He looks older with the beard, but it’s not just that…his smile is less…shark-like, more endearing.For half a second she wants to reach up and touch it, wants to know just how his scruff would feel against the skin…of her fingers.

“Well,” she says, “If you ever want to make a living giving shitty poetry readings, you’ve got the look down.”

“Thanks Ames,” he says, and winks at her.“Get you a coffee?”

She kind of wants to slap him for the wink, and kind of feels relieved - whatever depression performance art he’s got it into his head to give, the Dan she knows is still in there. 

“Just a water,” she says, “And maybe, if they have them, an -”

“An almond croissant?Sure.”

Fuck him for knowing her so well.

The debate goes reasonably well, even if the electorate confirm all her worst assumptions about them by preferring Thornhill, and afterwards, the campaign team, plus Catherine, retire to the hotel bar, to talk it over and read the think pieces on the candidate's performances as they come through on twitter.

They’re well into their third round of drinks when Ben says, “So where’s your little wind-up toy, Amy?You send him home without any supper?”

“It was a trial run,” she says, trying to keep her dignity.(She didn’t hire Jackson because he was like Dan, she hired him because he was _good_ , or at least...seemed to be.She doesn’t _care_ what anyone else thinks about it).“And okay, turns out he was kind of shit, but… that’s what trials are for.”

She can _feel_ Dan’s eyes on her, and it makes everything she says seem weirdly defensive, as though she’s arguing against an accusation no one’s actually made (in so many words).Any second now, she’s going to blush.  


“He just wasn’t ready for the big leagues,” Dan says, “Maybe we could get him a job with Congressman Pierce.”

Ben laughs, and the conversation moves on to Bill Erickson working a miracle with Thornhill, and Amy relaxes and joins in, and when no one else is looking, Dan winks at her again, across the table, like they have a secret, just between them.And she can’t help it, for all that she’s annoyed at him for being so obnoxious, for implying Jackson was a…a substitute, that she can’t do without him, she still gives him a half smile back.

Maybe she did miss him, just a little.

But he’s still a _shit_.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to read the story in chronological order, I've posted a reading order at the link below, which I will try to keep updated:
> 
> http://thebookofmaev.tumblr.com/post/165492381492/behind-the-scenes-masterpost


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